The Bat Cave Is Forever
by The Pardo Girls
Summary: Ranger and Stephanie are engaged, but Steph is dragging her feet on setting a wedding date. Ranger has plans to change her mind, including finally taking her to the Bat Cave. But someone else has other plans that change everything, especially for Steph. Who is this mystery person and why do they hate Stephanie so much? Cowritten by Sonomom and Jago-ji. Follows The Gift of Grace.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: We're back! Who knew it would be so much fun to write with a partner? This story is not quite a sequel to our first story, The Gift of Grace. More like a continuation. We are excited to post and will do so five days a week. We look forward to hearing your thoughts about our joint venture. As always, we use these characters for fun and not for profit._

 _And so, without further ado, grab yourself a Coke, (and fries, if you need a hangover cure) sit back and ...enjoy!_

 _jago-ji and sonomom aka The Pardo Girls_

 **Chapter 1: Gone, Baby, Gone**

The winter rain pounding on his bedroom window woke him up an hour before his alarm went off. Unable to go back to sleep, Ranger stretched his arms over his head, pointed his toes, and then sat up on the side of the bed. He actually felt a little thrill of excitement thinking about his schedule for the day.

Today was the final day of the house renovation. The Bat Cave! He smiled broadly when he thought about what Stephanie had once said to him when he'd told her he was on his way home from a job.

 _"Home to the Bat Cave?" she asked. Back then no one knew where he lived. The address on his driver's license was a vacant lot._

 _"Yeah. The Bat Cave," he said._

 _"I'd like to see the Bat Cave sometime." Steph looked up at him through those luscious long lashes of hers._

 _Their eyes held._

 _"Maybe someday," he said._

Back then, this house had only been a pipe dream, much like RangeMan had been when he was still in the military. He'd come a long way since then.

Growing up in a lower middle class family had spurred Ranger to dream big about his future. Joining the Army hadn't really been much of a choice after he'd lost his college scholarship and had to drop out of Rutgers. But his military experience as a Special Forces soldier had given him the skills that had enabled him to earn his fortune after he'd been honorably discharged from the Army.

He didn't dwell much on those later, dark years he'd spent as a mercenary. His numerous deployments had taken him all over the world, but he'd only seen the depressing dregs of the countries he'd fought in. Yeah, he'd only taken jobs sanctioned by the U.S. government, but still, he was just a hired killer. Some of his jobs had been more personal, like when he was hired by corporations or wealthy families to rescue people who'd been kidnapped for ransom. However, those miserable years had built up his considerable nest egg and jump-started his security business. That's why they call them soldiers of fortune, he grimaced.

He showered and dressed and stopped by the control room on his way to the garage. Tank waved him into his office. "Today's the big day!" Tank said, shaking his head. "You sure you want to do this, man?"

"I do," Ranger said.

"Hey, save that kind of language for the church," Tank laughed. He swung his arm out to the side, hand extended, and brought it in toward Ranger. "Well, good luck, my friend. You're going to need it with Steph. If that house doesn't convince her it's time to set the date, nothing will."

Ranger met Tank's wide handshake halfway and the two of them gave each other a brotherly man hug, including a sharp slap on the back.

"That's what I'm hoping. It's time to take the next step with Stephanie and set our wedding date. I don't know why she's been dragging her feet, but I won't be taking 'No' for an answer tonight."

"She won't be able to resist the Mañoso charm," Tank quipped.

"She's been resisting so far," Ranger muttered.

"You've both spent way too many years being commitment-phobic. Steph may just be holding on to some residual fear." Tank gave his best friend an appraising look. "But you really are ready now, aren't you? Go for it, Ranger. I'll hold down the fort here, and you go get your girl."

Ranger shrugged into his winter coat and hiked down to the garage. The wet rainy weather was not going to dampen his spirits, not today.

First, he drove across town to a nondescript strip mall and parked in front of the corner store. The sign out front said Jersey Girls Chocolatiers. Manning the shop were two young girls dressed in candy striper pinafores. When Ranger walked into the store, the girls' eyes grew big and they stopped talking. He stepped up to the glass-fronted counter and was met by silence. The girls were staring at him, mouths open. Ranger tilted his head to study the trays of beautifully decorated chocolate confections lined up under the counter.

Finally, one girl stepped forward and stammered, "M-m-may I help you?" The other girl stayed in the background, fanning her face with her hand.

"Yes. I'd like a box of chocolates," Ranger said.

The girl nodded. "W-what kind? M-milk, dark or white ch-chocolate?"

"Yes."

"Okay," she nodded again and took a deep breath. The girl standing behind her giggled and then quickly covered her mouth with her hand. "Truffles, cream-filled, nuts, nougat, caramel, or brittle?" the first girl asked, gaining confidence.

"Yes."

"So, you want a large box of assorted chocolates. Do you want the one-pound, two-pound or the five-pound box?"

"Better make it the five-pounder. And I need it now. Do you gift wrap?"

"Of course. Give me ten minutes." She turned to the other girl and gestured for her to start filling up the mega box with an assortment of the shop's candies. She turned back to Ranger. "May I offer you some samples to taste, sir?" Again, the second girl giggled.

"No, thank you." He slid a platinum credit card across the counter. "Ring it up."

Ranger walked out the door, a large gold foil-wrapped box under his arm, while the two young girls pressed their noses against the window and watched him slide into his Carrera.

He set the box of specialty chocolates on the passenger seat. Steph loved chocolate. Well, she loved anything sweet, but these chocolaty confections would send her over the moon, he mused. He mentally checked off the first item on his list. Then he moved on to the florist.

It was mid-afternoon by the time he pulled through the wrought iron gates of his newly remodeled home. It was a large two-story house, more like an estate with the amount of acreage surrounding it. And, of course, it was protected by a state-of-the-art security system. He carried in several of the bags he'd picked up earlier in the day and met the interior decorator in the expansive hallway. The woman, an attractive middle-aged lady, was dressed in a navy linen pantsuit and sensible two-inch heels. Ranger had hired her before the remodeling had been completed, as he wanted a feminine touch throughout the house, so that Stephanie would feel welcome immediately.

"Mr. Mañoso, I'm pleased to tell you the last of the furniture has arrived and I just put the final touches to the decor. I hope you will be pleased," she said, a tentative smile crossing her face.

"I'm sure I will, Gloria," Ranger said. "Everything you've done to date has been excellent." His praise changed her tentative smile into a broad one of pleasure. "But I'd like to see the final arrangements." They walked through the house with her pointing out the new pieces and the changes she'd made since he'd last been there. He was satisfied with the overall look, but he would make it clear to Stephanie that she would be free to make any changes she desired.

"There are several fresh flower bouquets in the backseat of my vehicle," Ranger told her. "I'd like you to place them wherever you see fit. Tonight is a special night. I am showing the house to my fiancé, and I want things to be perfect."

At the mention of a fiancé Gloria's smile dropped, but she nodded obediently and left to carry out his instructions. Ranger moved into the kitchen and found Ella chopping vegetables.

"Ranger, I thought I heard your voice," Ella said. "Are you pleased with the house? I think Gloria has done an excellent job. Stephanie will be thrilled. Any woman would be with this incredible house."

Ranger joined her at the kitchen's massive granite-topped island and snitched a piece of carrot. Ella glanced up and smiled at her boss as he chewed and looked around at her dinner preparations. "It looks like you have everything under control here," he observed.

"Dinner tonight will be memorable, I can assure you of that. There will be five courses: a tasty appetizer, a hot soup, a small salad, a decadent starch with vegetables, a classic protein, and, of course, dessert. Do you think you can handle serving all that by yourself?"

"Yes, I think I can handle juggling a few plates and bowls. You were able to find all the wines and liqueurs I requested?"

Ella nodded as she continued to prep for dinner. "There are several bottles on the sideboard, complete with their respective crystal. The rest are chilling in the refrigerator."

"Thank you, Ella. I want Stephanie to feel pampered tonight. I want everything to go smoothly."

"How could she not feel pampered with you catering personally to her every whim?" she responded. "As you asked, I planned the menu with Stephanie in mind, not you," she said, giving him a meaningful look.

"Yes, that's what I want. I can eat anything, but I want Stephanie to feel as if she's died and gone to heaven. You know how she loves her food. I trust there will be more than one dessert for her to sample?" he asked.

"But of course," Ella grinned. "I prepared a cherry cheesecake, a triple-layer double fudge chocolate cake, crispy amaretto cookies, and a lemon gelato with raspberry sauce. No one enjoys her sweets more than Stephanie."

"It sounds delicious, Ella. Again, thank you for pulling this dinner together. I appreciate all of your efforts."

"I'm just glad you are finally taking this step. The two of you deserve a life together. I know Stephanie will be swept off her feet, literally and figuratively." Ella smiled and ducked her head down at the same time. "I will leave you clear instructions, so that you will know where everything is and when to serve it. I wish you'd let me serve the dinner, but I understand why you want to be alone with Stephanie tonight. Now, get out of the kitchen and let me finish putting your dinner together."

Ranger gathered his packages and climbed up the grand staircase to the master bedroom, to prepare that room for the long-anticipated after dinner entertainment. He arranged a variety of cream-colored candles around the room and set the decorative butane torch on the nightstand. He placed the five-pound box of chocolates on one of the bed's king-sized pillows. No single mint on the pillow for his woman. Next, he lifted out a box full of red rose petals the florist had prepared for him. Turning down the 1,000 thread-count Egyptian cotton top sheet, he proceeded to scatter the soft petals across the bed.

...

Ranger walked up the two flights of stairs to her apartment and stood outside her door, an unexpected feeling of nervous anticipation filling him.

This was it! Today was "someday." This was the day he would take Stephanie to the Bat Cave, as she had always referred to wherever he lived. The day he and Stephanie would set their wedding date. He couldn't wait to surprise her. His house ... _their_ house ... was finished and waiting for them. The evening was all planned. He would show her the house, serve her their dinner himself, and then they would set the date, finally. He wouldn't even consider that she might postpone it yet again. That was _not_ an option!

It had taken him a long time to get here, and he had foolishly sabotaged himself for years. When he first moved to Trenton and began his long-term plan to establish himself as a security expert, he'd told himself his lifestyle wasn't safe for a family. He'd still been doing freelance mercenary work then, as well as bounty hunting, and he didn't have time to do any of the social niceties with family or friends, let alone date. He'd had a business to build.

He'd known he'd made enemies with his gun-for-hire work, enemies who would jump at the chance to get revenge by targeting those he loved. He couldn't afford to get close to anyone. That included one intriguing, blue-eyed, curly-haired dynamo who kept crossing his path. While he knew he had to steer clear of her, he was still kicking himself for sending her back to the cop after the first time they'd made love. He'd panicked when he realized how deep his feelings were for this wild child from the Burg.

But the true crux of the matter was that Stephanie had simply not been part of his long-term plan, and because of it, he'd pushed her away, time and time again. But fate kept intervening and throwing them together. Plus, he just couldn't stay away from her. She'd gotten under his skin and he lost control every time he was near her. Hence, the "poaching" she'd accused him of when he couldn't resist touching her, kissing her. Another reason he'd kept pushing her away. He hated not being in control, and she made him lose it.

But all that was in the past. After that last fucked up situation with Grace Galloway at the safe house, where Stephanie had been shot and almost died, he'd finally come to terms with the fact that he loved her and that she was the center of his life. So, he had finally proposed to her, during those glorious two weeks at Hilton Head. And tonight, he would make it abundantly clear to her that he wanted her to be his wife, his life partner. And he wanted to start that life now! He'd once teased her that once you go into the Bat Cave, it's forever; there was no turning back. And tonight would be no exception. No turning back!

He took a deep breath and knocked. Usually, he let himself into her place without knocking, but he wanted to do this right. She must still be getting ready. He knocked again. No response. He listened intently, but he heard nothing stirring in her apartment.

Frowning, he tried the door and it was unlocked. Stephanie always locked her door. A sudden tenseness shot through his body as he opened the door and stepped into the foyer. One look inside and he pulled his Sig from his pancake holster. He slipped quietly along the wall into the living room. His innate senses told him the apartment was empty, but he checked every room anyway.

The bedroom did not look disturbed other than a pile of dirty clothes on the end of the bed. The bathroom had a wet towel on the floor and Steph's flat iron was still on the counter. But the living room was a mess and not just with Steph's usual messiness. The lamp that normally was on the end table was now knocked over onto the sofa, the coffee table was askew, and the area rug was bunched up against the wall. Steph's purse had been dumped on the dining room floor. And ... there were smears of blood on the outer edge of the dining room table as if someone had grabbed it with a bloody hand.

One thing was clear. Stephanie was gone!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Taken in Broad Daylight**

Stephanie Plum wasn't sure why she was doing it. Her jeans were zipping and buttoning with ease, and when that was the case her motivation was usually at a low ebb. Still, it would be nice to have to buy new jeans, a size smaller. That was just a pipe dream, probably, but it was also a secret goal. Ranger had no complaints about the size and shape of her ass, but she wasn't in her twenties any longer, and aging well had recently become a priority for her.

Today, though, it was hard to run. The weather was cold, but at least the early morning rain had cleared. She wore two layers of sweats, but her hair was flying free and was damp from perspiration. She knew the resulting wayward frizz wouldn't be a good look. The repetitive _thump, thump_ of her Nike-clad feet hitting the pavement in a slow but steady rhythm was at once rewarding and frustrating. Rewarding, because she was actually doing something positive for herself, but frustrating because her stride was so slow she still couldn't keep up with any of the Merry Men. She was recovered from the gunshot wound that nearly took her life, mostly. Her endurance wasn't coming back as quickly as she'd like, and she was breathing heavily when she decided to turn in to her building instead of making another lap around the block.

She avoided the elevator and jogged up the steps to her apartment. Her mind was on the long invigorating shower she was getting ready to take, so maybe that was why she ignored the deadbolt in favor of the less secure knob lock. She never even thought twice about it. Since she had started working for RangeMan, her life was free of stalkers, fire-bombers and other weirdos, at least for the time being.

She was enjoying this brief time away from Ranger. They'd been together every night since they'd become engaged, and while sleeping with him was her favorite thing, she was using the time away from him to get caught up on things she'd let slide—like lunch with the girls earlier today. But whatever project he was working on was done, and he would be back with her this evening. There was a time when she would have wondered what was keeping him so busy, but she knew he'd tell her eventually. And she knew it wasn't another woman. It had taken a while to get used to the idea that Ranger was hers. But she'd gotten used to it!

Stephanie Plum was engaged, and pretty soon she would be Stephanie Mañoso. She raised her left hand in front of her and admired the unique engagement ring. Her mom had been disappointed that is wasn't a two-carat diamond. According to Helen Plum, that would have been more exciting for the Burg grapevine than her daughter's simple, but beautifully set, sapphire. Ranger had forgone the diamond because he knew the sapphire would suit her better. Ranger knew her. She felt the warmth travel through her body as she remembered all the ways Ranger knew her.

Even more warmth came with the realization that she knew Ranger, too. He was a strong and powerful man, but with just a few brushes of her fingertips, just a flick of her tongue in a certain place, she could turn that man into a quivering, hungry lover, filled with an insatiable need for her. She enjoyed the power she had over him, but she didn't abuse it.

They had a special trust in one another, and she had never dreamed it could be that good between a woman and a man. Oh, she'd had good sex before, most of it with Ranger, but what they had now was something different. It was more, somehow. Her body tingled and her nipples pebbled at the thought of Ranger, in her bed, later that evening. She wrinkled her nose at the musky odor of her recent exercise and went to the shower to wash away the evidence of her exertion, and get her body prepared for exertion of a different kind. Her life was perfect! Mostly.

As she stepped under the shower spray a niggling thought worked its way up from where she'd been trying to suppress it. Ranger had said something about tonight being a special night and to dress up. He was probably going to take her someplace fancy and ask her again to set the date. She didn't know why she was putting it off. Okay, she knew, but she didn't think she could tell Ranger. They'd been engaged long enough for her to know; she was good at being engaged. But what if she wasn't as good at being married? She wanted to be married to Ranger more than anything. She wanted it so much, she was afraid she'd somehow screw it up. Her previous marriage experience hadn't gone well, and while most of her brain knew it hadn't been her fault, part of her brain was telling her it might have been. What if she didn't make Ranger a good wife?

She shampooed her hair and felt the engagement ring on her finger slide as the lather encompassed it. The beautiful ring that was just for her. And she knew that tonight would be a special night, because, suddenly, she knew. Just like he'd given her a ring made just for her, he was going to give her a house made just for her. The Bat Cave! Her _someday_ was finally here.

She knew she had to tell Ranger that she was afraid. She trusted him and he trusted her, and he'd help her figure out how to get over the fear. They'd set the date. She could do that, but she'd insist—no reception at the PNA hall. She shuddered at the sudden chill in spite of the warm shower spray pulsating over her shoulders. And no bridesmaids in eggplant dresses, no matter what her mother and Valerie said. Ranger would help her with that, too. She wasn't in this alone.

She moved into her bedroom, the air chilly on her shower-warmed skin so she pulled on a pair of stretchy yoga pants. They were a favorite of hers, even if they did have a stain from something Artie Mayfield had thrown at her when she was trying to bring him in. She didn't bother with a bra as she slipped a gray Rangers sweatshirt over her head and smiled at the private joke. She was Ranger's. She had plenty of time to fix her hair and add another glossy coat of _Reddy and Willing_ to her toes before she changed into something more Ranger-worthy.

She towel-dried her hair and felt it fluffing into an insane cloud around her shoulders. She'd let it air dry while she painted her toes and then she'd take the straightener to it, but first she was going to have some caffeine. She walked into her living room and came to a sudden stop, her bare toes curling into the carpet. Breath escaped her, and her stomach flip-flopped. _Stay calm_ , she told herself, and worked hard to pull in a long deep breath.

Two men, dressed in black stood inside her open door. It wasn't RangeMan black; she could tell that from the black ski masks that obstructed her view of their faces. They took steps in unison as they approached her. Damn! Her gun was back in its home in the cookie jar. She'd been working at RangeMan these last few weeks, in her new job as the company's customer relations manager, and she hadn't needed to carry.

"You're coming with us, bitch," one of the men said in a low gravelly voice as he grabbed her arm. Instinctively, her leg came up and her knee caught him in the groin. He crumpled slightly and released his hold, but the other man moved forward to take his partner's place and wrapped his hand tightly around her upper arm.

With their faces covered by ski masks, she couldn't tell too much about them, but she did notice that both of the men were average height, maybe 5'10", a little on the hefty side, and the backs of their hands were hairy. She didn't see a gun in either man's hand and that was good, because she really, really didn't want to be shot again. She needed to do something. The Cardinal Rule was never let them take you away from the scene of the crime.

Oh hell, she thought. Just go for it! She closed her eyes and braced herself as she reared back and then head-butted the man's nose, or at least where she thought his nose was. It was hard to tell with the mask on. There was a spray of blood from the front of the mask. This time when the man's grip loosened she made a lunge for the door. An arm came around her middle and pulled her back. Her hip caught the lamp and knocked it sideways.

As she spun around, she saw the man she'd head-butted gripping the dining room table with his hand, now bloody from his dripping nose, trying to steady himself. With grim satisfaction, she saw she was doing damage to these thugs; she just had to do more.

The other man still had his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Kicking out both her legs, she shoved her feet against the coffee table, which knocked it off-center as well as the man holding her, and finished the move by stomping hard on the top of the man's feet, hard enough to cause a jolt of pain to shoot from her bare foot up her calf. He grunted and loosened his grip, but he didn't let go. She tried to kick backwards, but he dodged her feet.

The man with the bloody nose was coming toward her and in his hand he held something all too familiar. It was a gun, but not the kind that shot bullets. However, a stun gun meant they planned to take her someplace. That would be the kiss of death, so she started struggling as hard as she could. They bumped into the dining room table and her purse was knocked off, scattering the contents across the floor.

During the struggle, her engagement ring slid over her knuckle. If she straightened out her finger, it would fall off. It could be a way to leave a clever clue for Ranger … to make sure he knew she didn't leave her apartment willingly.

Dropping her ring could be genius, or it could be a sure fire way to lose something she held dear if the men noticed the fallen ring. The ring Ranger had given her the night he'd professed his love and proposed. Could she risk it? The man behind her tightened his arm around her, and the man with the stun gun reached toward her. It was now or never.

"I'm gonna enjoy this," smirked the man she'd head-butted. She made her decision and let the ring slide from her finger as a tear slid from her eye.

She held her breath and waited for one of the men to comment on it or stop to pick up the ring, but they didn't. And they didn't stop with their plans. The stun gun felt cold against her collarbone. The arm around her waist was gone, but before she could react there was that familiar and painful buzz. She only had time to say "Crap!" And then her world went black.

When she came to, she was in a dark space and, with a sinking sensation, she realized it was a car trunk. Her hands were tied behind her back, and the pain was intense. Her scar from her recent gunshot wound had healed, but now it was being stretched beyond normal limits, and as the car turned a corner she fell against a sidewall. She tried to push off with her feet and found they were bound together, too.

She needed to quiet the hysteria that was about to break loose within her. They hadn't killed her, so they must want her alive. And if she was alive, there was a chance she could escape or Ranger could find her. She needed to stay calm and try to figure out what was going on and who had her. As the car came to an abrupt halt, she rolled onto her back with her arms trapped underneath her. It felt as though her scar was ripping open, but she knew that wasn't the case.

The trunk lid opened slowly and she squinted as the late afternoon light poured in. She had a brief glimpse of one of the men in black, his ski mask still in place, and then large male hands pulled something crudely over her head. It wasn't a ski mask or if it was, it was on backwards, because there were no eyeholes. She was hauled roughly from the trunk and as her feet hit the ground, her knees buckled. She felt hands at her ankles and suddenly her feet were free. She tensed her muscles, preparing to blindly kick out.

A terse male voice commanded her, "Stand still, bitch! You kick me again and I'll shoot your kneecap off." She did as she was told, hoping that she wouldn't topple over. She was disoriented and felt woozy, but part of her mind was working clearly. She listened carefully, trying to hear any sound or noise that would give her a clue as to where she was. She had no idea how long she'd been in the car trunk. Would Ranger be able to track her? She had no trackers on her person, but there had been one in her purse. Only she didn't think they had taken her purse with them.

She felt a hand tighten around her forearm and pull her. She stumbled but didn't fall, as another hand went around her other arm.

"Walk straight ahead," another male voice commanded. "Across this grass and down these stairs." Her feet shuffled through what she imagined to be a patch of winter-browned grass. The ground was uneven and she could feel the coldness sink into her bare toes, still one shiny red coat shy of perfection. They kept pushing her and pulling her forward.

The strip of grass gave way to a cement sidewalk. She stubbed her toe on something that might have been a loose chunk of concrete and felt her other foot stumble into a shallow hole. Her ankle rolled a little, but not enough to qualify for a sprain, thankfully, because she was waiting for the opportunity to run. It didn't come. Her next obstacle was a set of uneven and rough stairs. Her poor bare feet!

Somehow, she made it down the stairs. When the hood was pulled from her face she saw she was in a small room with two masked men. She couldn't help herself. She felt a little thrill of satisfaction as she noticed one man was limping and the other had blood stains on his dark mask. At least she hadn't gone quietly.

"What's going on?" she demanded. "Who are you? Where are we?" She moved toward the door, but both men stepped forward and blocked her.

"Youse shut up, bitch. We do the talking," Bloody Mask said. "Don't try to get out of here. It can't be done. Don't go screaming your head off or we'll come back and hurt ya. Nobody around here to hear ya anyways." They started inching toward the door.

It came to her that they were going to leave her here. With her arms tied. "Wait," she cried. "Please, my arms. If they have to stay tied, can I have them tied in front of me?" The men exchanged glances.

Bloody Mask must have been the boss because he pulled a knife from his jacket pocket. He pushed a button and a long and lethal blade swished open. He walked behind her. She felt the cold blade against her wrist and then her hands were free. There was no warm gush of blood, so Stephanie relaxed a little. Her arms hung limp by her sides, useless until the blood flow returned.

She watched with increasing panic as her captors walked back through the door and pulled it closed behind them. She heard a series of locks tumble shut. Holy cow, what was this place? Was she being held in a bank vault?

The light was dim, and came from a low-watt yellow bulb that hung on a spindly cord from the ceiling. The room was mostly empty. A brown nylon brocade sofa that had been new sometime in the first half of the last century was centered against one wall. Next to it was something that might have passed for an end table. On the wall opposite there was a scarred wooden table with one chair. And there was one other thing in the room. A toilet sat in the corner. No walls surrounded it and ugh, there was no toilet paper. There was a concrete floor and cement block walls. The room had a musty, mildewy smell to it, like an odor of long-term decay.

She was in a windowless basement. She had no idea where, and more importantly, she had no idea why.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Missing**

Ranger took a long second look around Stephanie's apartment. Was the mess he saw what it looked liked — that Stephanie had been taken forcefully? Or was there another, less dramatic explanation, such as Steph injuring herself and then leaving on her own power, maybe to go to the hospital?

He returned his gun to its holster at the small of his back, and then searched through the scattered contents of her purse. He found her phone and car keys. A glance out the window showed her car was still in the back parking lot. Maybe a neighbor had driven her. He strode out into the hall and started knocking on doors. It only took a few minutes of questions to learn no one on her floor had heard or seen anything, and they didn't know where Stephanie was.

His first call was to the Trenton PD, reporting a break-in and possible abduction. His second call was to RangeMan, giving a terse report to Tank and an order to call all local ERs to see if Steph had shown up. While he waited for the police, he made several more phone calls, including one to Steph's mother, and one to Connie Rosolli at the bail bonds office, to see if they knew where Steph was. No one had talked to or seen Stephanie since lunchtime.

After the last phone call, he continued pacing. Nothing came to him. The apartment felt empty. Even her damn rodent used to liven up the place, but Rex had gone to hamster heaven months ago. The apartment now just felt hollow. What had happened here? Where was Stephanie?

Stephanie hadn't worked as a bond enforcement agent in nearly half a year. She was no longer chasing skips or delving into cases peopled by unsavory characters. The scene in her apartment showed all the signs of a violent abduction, but who would take her? Could it be someone from _his_ past? That thought troubled him immensely. The potential list was long. Deep in thought, he dropped into her armchair and simply sat there. Several minutes passed and Ranger hadn't moved a muscle, except maybe his eyes.

 _Where are you, Babe?_ he mused, his mind running overtime. He leaned forward and rubbed his face with both hands. _What happened?_ His eyes rotated to the ceiling. _Are you in trouble or is there some simple explanation for all of this?_ His head dipped down. _I wish I had ESP like you're always accusing me of, because then I'd know ..._

And suddenly, he saw it. A flash of blue! In a split second, he was out of the chair and on his knees, his arm reaching under the sofa. He sat back on his haunches and opened his hand. A sapphire ring lay squarely in the middle of his palm. There would be no simple explanation for her disappearance. Stephanie would never leave her engagement ring behind.

He shook his head and swallowed, hard. When he'd had the one-of-a-kind ring made, he'd considered inserting a GPS tracker in it, but the design he'd chosen was too slim for current tracker technology. And the more he'd thought about it, he'd decided against the tracker. Stephanie had always bristled at being monitored, but he'd only put trackers in her purse or her vehicle. This ring was a symbol of their new relationship, one founded on trust and commitment. To slip such invasive equipment into something so personal seemed a violation of that trust. Besides, she was getting out of her dangerous bounty hunting job and going to work full-time for RangeMan. He'd continue to use trackers in her purse or car; she knew they were there, and she knew how to circumvent them if she desired. But her engagement ring was off-limits. And it wouldn't have helped in this case anyway, he mused. With a deep sigh, he pocketed the ring, stood and strode toward the front door.

At that moment, two of Trenton's finest appeared at Stephanie's open doorway. Carl Costanza and his partner, Big Dog, were peering around the doorjamb, as if hesitant to enter.

Carl glanced over at Ranger and asked, "Is it safe? The last time I was here, there were snakes crawling everywhere."

Ranger nearly rolled his eyes. "There's no one here. But there's clear evidence that there was a struggle." He moved aside so the two police officers could see into the living room.

"Steph's place is always a mess," Carl grinned as he sauntered in.

Ranger restrained himself from decking the cop and pointed to the dining room table. "How do you explain the blood?"

Big Dog bent down and peered at the table. "That's blood, all right."

"That's evidence," Ranger clarified, his voice tight, his teeth clenched. "Evidence that something bad went down in here. Stephanie was taken by force from her apartment. Time is our enemy. The longer you stand there gawking, the colder the evidence gets." His eyes were shooting daggers at both police officers.

Carl backed away from Ranger and took a quick walk through the apartment. When he came back, he said, "It looks like the only messed up room is here, in the living room. How long has she been missing?"

"I talked to her neighbors on this floor and called her mother and coworkers, and no one has seen her since noon. I came by less than twenty minutes ago and found her door shut but unlocked. I called you guys and it took you over fifteen minutes to get here."

Carl looked sheepish, but Big Dog just shrugged and said, "She's an adult. Maybe she isn't really missing. Maybe she's just out shopping."

Ranger took one long stride toward Big Dog and, when they were nose to nose, he uttered in a soft but deadly voice, "Someone took her, and if you don't get on the horn in two seconds and report this as a kidnapping, I'll rip your tongue out and strangle you with it."

Carl immediately got on his phone and called the precinct. "Connect me with Criminal Investigations," he said. There was a short pause and he continued, "This is Officer Costanza, reporting a possible kidnapping." Another pause. "Apartment 215, at the corner of St. James and Dunworth. Yeah, that's Stephanie Plum's apartment. Send a detective and a forensics unit over ASAP." He glanced up from his call and met Ranger's stare, then turned aside and murmured, "Yes, I'm serious. Get someone over here right now."

While they waited for the forensics unit to arrive, Carl and Big Dog questioned Ranger about the actions he'd taken before they'd arrived. They also asked about potential suspects, which Ranger could only speculate about. He still had no clue about who would take Stephanie or why.

Ranger's phone rang and he stepped aside to take the call. "Report," he barked.

"She isn't at any of the ERs," Tank told him. "Not under her name or as a Jane Doe. Same with the morgues. All staff have been putting out feelers to their respective sources, but so far, no news. No rumors of stalkers or angry skips. There's nothing on the radar."

"Keep working on that, but start checking on the likelihood that the danger may be from my past."

"Do you really think that's a possibility?" Tank queried. "It's been years since you've done any merc work."

"It can take years for resentments to fester to the point of action. I don't have any other avenues to explore. Someone took her, Tank. There's fresh blood on the scene. Not a lot, but enough to know she didn't go willingly. She's been gone less than an hour. There's got to be some evidence, some trace we can follow. Keep on it."

Ranger slipped his phone into his jacket pocket just as the forensics unit arrived, along with a detective from the Investigations Division. Right behind them, there was another detective, this one from the Vice Division.

Joe Morelli entered the apartment and his first glance was at Ranger. It wasn't an amicable look. Then he let his eyes travel through the apartment, taking in everything, but settling on the blood on the dining room table. Without saying a word, Joe passed something to Ranger as he moved into the living room to speak to the detective assigned to the case.

Ranger looked down at the item Morelli had handed him. It was a bottle of Maalox®.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Captivity**

Maybe it was the residual effect of being zapped or her ride in the car trunk. Or maybe it was the lumpy cushions of the ancient sofa, but Stephanie reminded herself of her Grandma Mazur. When she stood and made her way to the corner of the room she'd been avoiding, she was walking like her Grandma did in the morning. Her joints were stiff, and she ached in places she normally didn't. And her bladder was full.

She'd been alone in the room forever. Judging the passage of time wasn't something she was good at, so she didn't know if it was the middle of the night or early morning. What she did know is that she couldn't put off a visit to the toilet any longer. She wanted to know why she was here, what they planned to do with her, who they were. She wanted her captors to come back so she could ask them questions, but she hoped they wouldn't come back when she was squatting over the toilet … because there was no way she was sitting on it!

After the shock of being dumped in the room and left alone had worn off, she'd explored her prison. It looked like she wasn't the first person to be held in this room. The toilet and floor around it looked like the room had been used many, many times before, and she could tell Mr. Clean had never been a guest here. There were small holes and rust marks around the base of the porcelain. It looked like the toilet had been enclosed in a stall at one time.

There was something familiar about this space. Had she been here before? A shiver ran up and down her spine and made her forget about her room perusal. She had to pee!

As she pulled her pants back up she knew her first demand was going to be for toilet paper. Her stomach growled loudly. Okay, second demand. First would be for food. She'd eaten only a small lunch, saving herself for the treat Ranger said he had planned for her. She'd missed dinner, and maybe breakfast. She had no idea what time it was. Falling asleep had been a blessing last night. It took away the fear, but it also took away any sense she might have had about passing hours.

Her mind was bouncing in every direction. She walked back to the sofa and sat down. The moldy odor of the sofa rose up around her, enveloping her in an invisible cloud of foul-smelling decay. Resigned to the smell, she pulled her cold bare toes under her thighs. The temperature of the room was moderate, but the floor was icy. The ceiling was crisscrossed with several spans of dusty gray ductwork. She made a mental outline of the things she would think about while she waited for her captors to come back. She hoped they would come back. She needed some answers.

First, she wondered why the room seemed familiar to her. She thought about rooms where other people she knew had been held prisoner. She smiled, a real smile, not just one in her head, when she remembered the basement apartment where Eddie DeChooch had held her grandma prisoner. Grandma hadn't even realized it was a prison. She'd thought it was Eddie's love nest. She could use some of Grandma's optimism right now, because this place didn't look like any love nest she ever imagined.

A love nest … is that what the Bat Cave was? Did Ranger have a personal space for just the two of them? She thought he did, and she thought maybe he was going to show it to her last night. But this little abduction thing had got in the way, she mused with an automatic eye roll. She'd really been looking forward to spending the evening with Ranger. She ran her left thumb across the base of her fourth finger. Had Ranger found her ring? She hoped so. She tried to remember if there were signs of a struggle in her apartment. He'd be looking for her, but how could he find her? She had no idea where she was or who had taken her, so how could he? Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sound. At first it seemed like a low hum, maybe electrical. The sound ebbed and flowed. She also detected a whiff of cigar smoke. Curiosity overcame her mini-panic attack, so she got up from the sofa and made her way around the room. But she couldn't pinpoint the location. There was a louder noise that she recognized as a human voice and she knew what she'd been hearing were fragments of a conversation.

She'd fallen asleep with the single light burning in the room. It had been on since before she'd arrived. It only lit part of the room, the other half was in dim light. She had an idea. She walked toward the door where the light was and pulled the long, dirty, dangling cord and the room fell into inky darkness. Or did it? As her eyes adjusted she could see a faint halo of light coming from above. She moved to stand underneath the spot where she saw it and tried to remember what she'd seen there when the light was on.

She thought the light was coming from an area where the ductwork disappeared into the ceiling—maybe a floor vent for the room above. The scent of cigars was stronger here. She couldn't make out words, or even differentiate between speakers, but someone was definitely having a conversation above her. She wasn't completely alone. It probably shouldn't have made her feel better, because they were the enemy, but it did.

She fumbled for the light cord in the dark, and flooded the room with light that had initially seemed dim. She took a moment to assess the area from which the voices had filtered through. She needed to do more thinking, and it seemed she had time to do it. Her bare feet were numb on the bottom from the cold seeping through the concrete floor. She made her way back to the sofa and once again sat with her feet curled under her.

She would be brave and strong and smart. She'd figure this out. Ranger would figure this out. He'd find her. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

A short time later she heard a noise at the door. Someone was coming in. Did she stand? She opted to remain seated. If she stood maybe they'd think she was trying to escape and stun her again. She wasn't in the mood for that.

A ski-masked man opened the door and stepped in. He wasn't limping, but she thought it was the guy she'd gotten the groin-shot in on.

"Food, for youse," he said.

A touch of relief flooded through her. At least they weren't going to starve her. "Who are you?" Stephanie asked. He didn't respond. "Why'd you abduct me?" Still no response. She could see the stun gun in one hand and a grease-stained brown paper bag in the other. She started to get up from the sofa.

He lifted the hand holding the weapon in an aggressive wave. "Don't move, ya damn bitch. Stay away from me. I can make your life here real unpleasant."

Stephanie snorted. She shouldn't have. She should have stayed completely quiet. It's what Ranger would have done, but she couldn't help it. This guy acted like he thought he'd been pleasant up to this point.

He frowned at her, but didn't come any closer. She watched as he made his way, ever mindful of her, to the table where he dropped the bag on the marred tabletop. Then turning toward her and grinning, he slammed his meaty fist down on top of the bag, squishing whatever contents were in it. With a chuckle, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled a bottle of water from it. He set it next to the flattened bag.

Stephanie did another eye roll. That gesture was becoming a habit for her. The ski-masked man started moving back to the door, and Steph had a little jolt of awareness. He'd left the door open. She could have made a run for it. She should have made a run for it, but her captor had been closely watching her.

"Don't even think about it," he said. "I got a real gun here, and I don't want to use it, but if you make me, I will. I won't kill ya 'cause we don't want you dead ... yet. I'll just wound you and make you hurt so bad you'll wish you were dead."

His words shocked her. _They didn't want her dead ... yet?_ She'd been kidnapped several times in the past and each time, death was a possibility, but she'd always known why someone had taken her. But this time, she was being held captive and didn't have a clue as to who had abducted her or why. The man was moving closer to the door, and Stephanie realized she was once again about to be left alone. "Wait! I need toilet paper!"

He smirked at her through the red-rimmed mouth hole of the black ski mask. And then he left. She heard a series of locks tumble, and another tear ran down her cheek.

She stayed immobile for a while, but her hunger got the better of her. She walked to the table and pulled the chair out. It wobbled as she sat on it. It was no more comfortable than the lumpy sofa, but she stayed there. She'd eat at the table instead of where she slept. The realization that she was starting to build a routine in her new prison both startled and scared her. Another tear fell.

Breakfast, flattened as it was, was a sausage, egg and cheese biscuit. It was cold and congealed, but she ate it readily. She unscrewed the lid on the bottle of water and took a drink. It made her think of the toilet. Looking back at the table she had a Eureka! moment. There was a crumpled napkin inside the bag, and there was the bag itself. If she was careful, she would have toilet paper for the entire day. If Grandma Mazur had had to use the pages of a Sears, Roebuck & Co. catalog when she was a young girl, Stephanie could make do with what she had.

The thought cheered her. Ski Mask Man had given her a brief glimpse of the outside world when he'd left the door open. She hadn't seen much other than the bottom stair that she'd traversed the day before. She'd seen gray light, so she assumed it was early morning and the breakfast sandwich had confirmed that.

There were things he'd said and done that gave her pause for consideration, even if he hadn't answered her questions. She finished her meal, took one more drink and went back to her new thinking spot. She had plans to make.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Stalled**

Ranger waited impatiently for the traffic light to change, his thumbs drumming a steady beat on the steering wheel. He was _not_ in the zone, as Steph called his Zen driving style. It was the beginning of another long day, investigating any possible avenue that might lead to clues about the disappearance of his fiancé. Stephanie had now been missing for three days.

In the beginning, he'd camped out in Detective Frank Bouchard's office, trying to get a jump on any worthwhile leads as soon as they came in, but Bouchard had not been forthcoming. In fact, he'd complained to Police Director Ernie Carter that Ranger was browbeating him and getting in his way, until Carter sat down with Ranger and firmly asked him to back off. The Director promised to keep Ranger up to date, but insisted that Ranger let his detectives work the case.

Ranger backed off, a little, but started his own investigation in earnest. He and Tank had gone through the possibility that someone from his past had surfaced and was out for revenge. They had tracked the major suspects, and were able to locate most of them, and nothing indicated any movement or action from them. It was gratifying to learn that several of his former enemies were now deceased and several more were in prison. He didn't entirely dismiss any of his enemies as the kidnapper, but the fact that no one had contacted him and demanded ransom or anything from him, made that possibility a remote one. He had to believe Stephanie was still alive, or they would have just killed her outright. But why she was abducted and by whom were still huge question marks.

He'd personally questioned every member of Steph's family, including a tedious and trying two-hour interview with Steph's Grandma Mazur. Keeping her mind on track had been a nightmare. Focus was not Edna's strong suit. But she had been a good source of additional people to contact, as had Connie Rosolli and Lula. In the past two days, Ranger had talked to more of Steph's extended family, friends and former skips than Steph had talked to in the last two years. But no one could offer any substantive information regarding Steph's abduction.

Based on Edna's suggestion, he was now on the way to talk to Stephanie's ex-husband. Ranger had met Dickie Orr a few years ago when Ranger was helping one of his RangeMan employees with a missing persons claim. What started out as a favor had become a full-fledged investigation into money laundering and murder. He'd also asked Stephanie to help, and her involvement had exploded the case and nearly gotten both Steph and Dickie killed. It had been obvious to all those involved just how much the two divorcées hated each other. There'd also been the little matter of $4 million in drug money laundered through Dickie's company, and about who would get it after all the dust had settled. It was the first solid possibility of a motive for Steph's kidnapping.

Ranger parked in the underground garage located in the building housing Dickie Orr's new law office. Judging from the dilapidated part of town the building was in, Ranger concluded that Dickie had not been the ultimate recipient of the $4 million. The law office was on the ground floor and Ranger found it easily. Most of the building's office space was vacant.

When Ranger entered the office, he noticed the front desk where a secretary or paralegal would sit was empty, and it looked like it had been for quite a while. There was a closed door behind the front desk, which Ranger quickly entered.

The man sitting at the dented metal desk looked up at the sudden intrusion. It was Dickie Orr, but an aged, balding and overweight Dickie.

"Mañoso!" Dickie exclaimed, surprise evident on his face.

"It's been a while," Ranger said. "How's business, Dickie?"

Dickie glanced around the shabby room, seeing it with new eyes. "It's been better. I've been better. But it beats the alternative." He shrugged his shoulders. "Are you slumming?"

"I'm here about Stephanie."

"I heard about that. The cops were here yesterday. I'll tell you what I told them. I don't know anything. I haven't seen or heard from Stephanie for a couple of years. Not since..." he paused, "...not since my entire life went into the toilet."

"I'm guessing you didn't get any of the money from your last business venture," Ranger said, trying not to smile.

"Not a fuckin' dime. The Feds found some obscure RICO statute that allowed them to deny my claim to any of it. Fucking Feds!" Dickie pushed away from his desk and stood. "Joyce left me when she realized I was broke. I really loved her, but I guess she only loved me when she thought I had $4 million. Now, she's seeing some goombah from the City. Big mob connections. I hear he's loaded."

"That's rough," Ranger sympathized. "But about Stephanie..."

"Joyce hated Steph," Dickie blurted out. "Joyce blamed her for everything. Mainly for us losing the money, but also for her losing her hard-on for me. She kept saying to me, 'What did you ever see in that anemic bitch?'" Dickie shrugged again. "Who knows? Maybe Joyce would have stayed with me even without the money, but she just couldn't get over my past with Steph, and the fact that Steph never got over me. I kept telling her that Steph couldn't hold a candle to her. I mean, just look at Joyce. She's gorgeous, and what a rack on her. God, I miss her."

Ranger quickly closed the distance between them and lifted Dickie by his suit lapels until only his toes were touching the floor. Through clenched teeth, Ranger uttered, "Where is she?"

"Joyce?" Dickie cried. "How the hell would I know? She dumped me."

Ranger shook him until his teeth rattled. "No. Stephanie. Where's Stephanie?"

"I don't know where Steph is," Dickie whimpered. "Really, man, swear to God."

Ranger shook him again. "Did you take her?"

"Hell, I never want to see her again. Why would I take her?"

"What about Joyce? If Joyce hated Stephanie so much, would she kidnap her?"

"I wouldn't put it past Joyce. She's got a temper on her. But then, so does Steph. I guess I'm attracted to angry women." Dickie tried to relax, but it was hard to look casual when you were dangling in the air.

Just as quickly as Ranger grabbed him, he dropped him. "If I find out that you had anything to do with Stephanie's kidnapping, you're a dead man." He left Dickie sprawled on the floor, sobbing to himself.

...

He got a lot of stares as he walked down the precinct hallway toward the detective offices. No one approached or talked to him, but everyone knew who he was and why he was there. And no one wanted to be Joe Morelli.

Ranger pushed open the door and strode in until he was standing over Morelli's desk, and hence, over Morelli.

Joe looked up and then back down at the folder of reports he'd been reading, a small noise of disgruntlement emanating from his pursed mouth. "What do you want, Mañoso? I'm busy."

"I want information on her case. Bouchard is stalling, jerking me around," Ranger said. While his arms were loose along his sides, his hands were balled up tightly into fists.

"That's because he doesn't have anything to tell you," Joe replied.

"He had to have gotten something from her apartment. Fingerprints?" Ranger queried.

"No fingerprints, at least nothing usable," Joe said. "There is good news, though. The blood on her dining room table isn't hers."

Ranger stared at Joe, taking in what he was telling him. Stephanie must have been able to do some damage before they subdued her. "DNA?" he asked.

Joe shook his head. "No match to anyone in the system." He leaned back in his chair, studying his former rival. "Look, you're just going to have to let them work the leads as they come in."

"Are there leads coming in?" Ranger demanded to know. Joe's head tilted slightly, indicating to Ranger there were no active leads. He leaned forward, flattening his hands on the desk. "How can you not be on this case? It's going on three days, Morelli. She's out there, somewhere..." His voice, while harsh and demanding, also had a note of pleading in it.

Joe shook his head again and stood up. "I'm Vice. It's not my case." He walked around his desk to a wall lined with built-in bookshelves. "I've given Bouchard all the details I could think of, but Steph hasn't worked as a bond enforcement agent in months, so it's not like the old days when she was such a magnet for trouble. I don't have any idea who would nab her. As you know, Steph and I haven't been together in over a year." He gave Ranger a meaningful look.

"You're not totally out of her life," Ranger said. "She's got a soft spot for that mutt of yours."

Joe nearly grinned. "Good ole Bob. Who would have thought it'd be a dog that would keep Steph and I together. I'd always hoped it would be a kid." Joe blew out a noisy puff of air. "It was being with Stephanie that made me realize just how much I wanted kids, and, honestly, I thought we'd eventually end up together."

Ranger took a step forward, and Joe held up his hand. "I'm over it. She's all yours. It took me long enough to realize just how over we were, but I get it. She just couldn't make a commitment." Again, Ranger took another step forward. Joe continued, "Yeah, I know you two are engaged, but do you have a wedding date set yet?" Joe studied Ranger's reaction and laughed. "I didn't think so. I thought it was me who couldn't commit, but all along, it was Stephanie. Good luck with that, Mañoso."

"Let's stick to finding Stephanie and bringing her home," Ranger uttered, his voice low and deadly. "There's got to be something you missed. You and Stephanie were together a long time. Maybe something she once confided to you. Or a person holding a grudge against her. Maybe Joyce Barnhardt?"

Joe snorted. "Joyce and Steph have always hated each other, but it's a hit and miss thing. I can't see Joyce doing anything to Steph unless they had a recent altercation." He looked at Ranger.

"Not to my knowledge," Ranger said. "Is there anyone else?"

Joe looked away and put his hands on his hips. He was quiet for at least a minute. "Well, there is one thing. I don't think she felt one way or the other about Stephanie, but Steph hated Terry." Ranger frowned, so Joe clarified. "Terry Gilman. We dated in high school, and then on and off for years. Steph was always jealous of Terry. When Steph and I broke up the last time, I started seeing Terry again, but realized it was never going to work out. She didn't want kids and, you know, with me being a Vice cop and she being ... well, she being Vito Grizzoli's niece and working for him, I knew I had to dump her. Plus, I was still hoping that Steph and I could reconcile."

Ranger took another step closer, so Joe added, "Only until Steph started wearing your rock on her ring finger. That's when I started dating Alison." Joe picked up a framed photograph from one of the shelves and handed it to Ranger. "Alison is an accountant with an international import/export business. Unlike Steph, she wants to get married and have kids. She's Italian, she's young, and she thinks I walk on water." Joe couldn't help but grin.

Ranger glanced at the photo. It was of a pretty woman in her late twenties, a little plump, with long dark hair, dark eyes and olive skin. And the hint of a moustache.

"Congratulations," Ranger said, as he handed back the photo. He turned toward the door, but said one last thing to Joe. "Call me if you hear anything."

Joe nodded, a sympathetic look on his face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Misery**

She was organizing her thoughts again. Making an agenda. It helped her get through the day or the night or whatever time it was. She hadn't slept much and none of it well. She was confused, because she couldn't see if it was day or night. Three nights, she thought. At least there had been three greasy breakfast sandwiches. There'd been only two cold McDonald's hamburgers so far. She was expecting the third at any time.

There were two men guarding her, she'd figured out that much. The one who came in the morning was the one she'd kicked in the groin. In her mind he was Ski Mask Man. The other one brought her dinner, and she was certain she'd broken this guy's nose with her head-butt. He spoke with a nasally twang that she thought was a recent acquisition. He got it when her head connected with his face. She thought of him as Broken Nose Guy. Her stomach growled and reminded her he was due soon. Wherever they were holding her, it must be near a McDonald's. That wasn't much of a clue though as there were McDonald's all over Trenton.

Her feet were so cold. She thought about pulling off her sweatshirt and wrapping it around her feet, but she'd neglected to put a bra on under the sweatshirt, and she was not going to risk Broken Nose Guy coming in to find her undressed. She walked from the dining room back to the living room and sat on the sofa with her feet curled under her. Oh Dear God! She was completely losing it. She had made up imaginary rooms in her small prison. Next thing, she would be balling her accumulated trash, painting a face on it with leftover ketchup and calling it Wilson! Solitary confinement was making her go crazy.

She looked over at her trash. All the accumulated greasy bags, sandwich wrappers, and precious leftover napkins—her toilet paper—sat in a neat stack in the corner. The leftover ketchup and salt and pepper packets were stacked, also neatly, on the wooden table. She was keeping her home away from home more organized than her own apartment. Well, there was less to clutter up the place.

She didn't think she was crazy yet. It's just that there were so many hours to fill in the day, and so much uncertainty. Her two captors weren't telling her anything, and they wouldn't answer any of her questions. It had occurred to her there might be a monetary purpose in keeping her holed up. Maybe they'd made contact with Ranger and were demanding a ransom. Maybe they were waiting on payment.

Ranger! Her heart broke when she thought of the turmoil he must be going through. He was big and strong and competent, and he took care of everyone, but no one took care of him. No one but her. Slowly, she'd been finding the little chinks in his armor. The little cracks where she could let her love sink in and heal him. When they got engaged, he'd told her he was still a brute, and she believed him. She wanted to help him find his softer side. Brute was fine, on occasion, but there were going to be situations in his future where brute wouldn't work. She could help him with that. She needed to get out of here, for her, but also for Ranger. He was alone without her.

She pressed her hand to her empty stomach. These guys were feeding her fast food and a bottle of water, twice a day. It wasn't much, but it was enough for her to realize they didn't want her dead … yet. Ski Mask Man had said as much the first day he delivered the food. It gave her time to hope for a rescue, but also to plan an escape. She'd start by figuring out where she was. She could hear the low rumble of voices overhead again, followed by the odor of cigar smoke. She didn't know if that had any meaning, but she made a mental note of it.

She had no idea how far from her apartment they had driven her, but she was pretty sure they were still in Trenton. Other than that, she hadn't a clue. The room looked familiar. She'd sensed that she had been here before, or maybe just someplace like it. She'd been pondering for three days. And now, it came to her suddenly. It looked like the dungeon that she and Ranger had rescued Dougie Kruper and Mooner from. Her empty stomach contracted, and if she'd had any food in the last eight hours, she would have been sick.

She made another visual inspection of her room, and realized there was something in the darkened corner that she had been unconsciously avoiding. She was the queen of denial, after all. The light from the one bulb was dim and getting dimmer, and that corner was the darkest part of her prison. She probably needed to get up and go to the far corner to make certain, but she wasn't sure she wanted to confirm what it was.

It looked like chains dangling from metal rings set into the cement-block wall. There were four of them, two about shoulder height, and two down near the floor. Wicked-looking shackles were attached to the chains. The kind you could chain someone to, but she couldn't be certain unless she walked over for a closer look. She didn't move off the sofa, because just the memory of the room Mooner and Dougie had been tortured and nearly died in was enough for little tendrils of terror to start worming their way through her. It had been a dungeon in the home of Louie and Sophia DeStefano.

Louie, with his mob connections, had needed a room where he could conduct his unholy business. This windowless room, this basement where she was being held had all the markings of the same decorator Louie D had used. But why would the Mob grab her? What could they possibly want with a lowly ex-bounty hunter who didn't mess with them or their people? And what were they planning on doing with her in this room? Her heart thudded uneasily, her stomach roiled, and her hunger was momentarily forgotten.

The sound of a key in the lock alerted her. She jumped to her feet and faced her captor. Broken Nose Guy was different from Ski Mask Man, more thickset through the chest and meaner sounding. Broken Nose Guy always closed the door behind him. Ski Mask Man left it open, but always had a stun gun in his hand.

"Sit down," Broken Nose Guy commanded her. "You come close to me, and I'll take ya out."

"What do you mean, take me out?" Stephanie asked. "I mean, why do you want to ... to kill me?" She was surprised and dismayed at how hoarse she sounded. That's what happened when you didn't talk. Maybe she'd start singing after he left.

"It ain't what I want. I'm not in charge. But when I get the go-ahead, I'm gonna enjoy it. You broke my fuckin' nose, bitch, and I'm gonna return the favor ... and more. But I ain't supposed to do it yet. I gotta wait for the word."

"So, I'm not getting out of here?" Stephanie asked.

His eyebrows rose and disappeared under the mask. "Didn't ya just hear me. No, ya ain't gettin' out. She's fucking mad at youse for fucking up her plans. She's really gonna make you pay. And when she says pay, she means with your life." Suddenly, he got quiet, like he realized he was saying too much. "Anyway, the bottom line is, your number's up. Youse had better be enjoying these days, cause ya ain't gonna see too many more."

Steph swallowed, and tried to ignore his words. She couldn't let him see how scared she was. "Oh yeah?" she cried. "Then why are you afraid of letting me see your face? If I'm not going to get out of here, what's the deal? Are you embarrassed about your nose? I bet it's swollen."

He took a step toward her and she gulped again. What on earth was she doing, pushing the buttons of the man who had just threatened her? The man who brought her food?

"I ain't afraid of you," he said. He whipped his mask up over his head and gave her a menacing glare. His nose was big, naturally, she noticed, and there was an off-center bump and two mildly bruised eyes. Yep, she'd broken his nose. He looked familiar, in the same way the room did. She hadn't seen him before, but she knew the type. Mob.

"You look pretty scary, though," he said, looking her up and down, lingering on the wild mess of frizzed curls standing out from her head. "So maybe I should be afraid of you. Maybe I'll let you clean up a little before I take you out. Or maybe we'll get to know one another a little better before that, too. Whaddaya say?" He laughed, a gruff explosion of sound followed by a leering gaze that frightened Steph more than his words. "You want old Morty to take you to the promised land?" He grabbed his crotch and thrust his hips out. "If not during, then after." He laughed uproariously and made a gun sign with his index finger and thumb. "Bang," he said. He threw the familiar sack onto the table and turned to leave.

She thought about jumping him, trying to take him down, but he was big. She needed a plan. She waited until the last lock clicked before she hurried to the table. Her hunger had returned. She grabbed the bag and opened it. This was a change. Tonight's entrée was a cheeseburger, with onions and special sauce. And it was cold. Maybe McDonald's wasn't so close. She plopped onto the chair and once again noticed the legs were wobbly. The seed of a plan sprouted.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Tortured**

The next day, her routine changed. Instead of Ski Mask Man bringing her breakfast, both men came in, wearing their masks. On guard, Steph stood up.

"Don't ya give us any problems or I'll use this." One of the men waved a stun gun. Steph gave a little shudder. She did not want to go through that again.

The other man held up a black cloth sack. "Time for you to meet someone. Put this on over your head," he ordered.

They were going to take her somewhere. She didn't know if that was a good thing or not, but she knew things couldn't stay the same forever. At least she would finally know who had kidnapped her and, hopefully, why. Reluctantly, she slipped the hood over her head.

She felt her arms being grabbed, and then she was dragged across the room. She heard the clink of metal on metal, and fear shot through her, but before she could lash out, her arms were raised and she felt the shackles click around her wrists. Oh God! They were chaining her to the wall. The ankle shackles were snapped on next. She pulled and struggled against the chains, but that only made the shackles bite into her soft flesh. She felt blinded, and her quickened breath was making it hot underneath the cloth sack.

She heard the door open and close, and sensed the two men shuffling away from her.

"Well, well, well. Miss High and Mighty isn't so mighty now," a woman's voice said. Steph didn't recognize the voice, but it sounded muffled, like she was speaking through several layers of cloth.

"Who are you?" Steph blurted out. She was shaking with fear, but trying to control the tremor in her voice.

"I'm your worst nightmare. And you are my helpless victim. But then, you've always been helpless," the woman told her, her voice dripping with derision. "You always need men to come to your rescue because you bungle everything. You're a joke as a bounty hunter. Let's face it, you're just a joke, period."

Steph had no response. The woman obviously knew her, or at least knew of her. Her mind was working overtime, trying to figure out who the woman was, by both her voice and her words. She was coming up blank. Steph tried to lunge forward and grab the woman but the chains were too tight. The woman laughed, but it sounded muted, like it was smothered behind a mask or a bandanna.

"You brought this on yourself, bitch. You came between me and my man."

 _My man?_ Steph racked her brain. Was this woman accusing her of having something to do with her man–her boyfriend or husband? There was a brief pause in the conversation, and then Steph could feel a tug on the chain holding her left wrist.

"These chains are kinda symbolic," the woman continued, a noticeable smile evident in her tone. "He loves to handcuff me when we make love, but then, you'd know all about that side of him. Or maybe not." Another pause. "He's always real with _me_ , showing me his true self. Is he real with you? I think not. I bet he never shows you the man he really is. I bet he treats you with kid gloves."

Suddenly, Steph's head was slammed back into the wall as she was slapped hard across the face. A second later, she was slapped viciously on the other side of her face. It was totally black inside the mask, but she saw stars.

"No kid gloves here," the woman sneered. "Not after you ruined things between us. He was meant to be _mine_ ," she insisted, a hard edge to her muffled voice. "We were always supposed to end up together. But you ... you and your goody two-shoes Burg life changed all that. Now, he wants kids ... and a normal life. Whatever that is. Bottom line is, I'm alone now. All of a sudden, I'm not good enough for him. He won't even take my calls. Someone's gotta pay, and that someone is you, bitch. When I get done with you, no one will want you. I'm going to cut you up so bad, even your doddering old granny won't recognize you."

A closed fist plowed into Steph's stomach and she tried to double over, but the chains held her upright. She also couldn't breathe. She gagged and wheezed trying to get enough air into her lungs so she wouldn't black out. When she finally stopped wheezing, she could hear a woman's cackle and a door closing. Then, there were hands fumbling at her ankles and her wrists. The shackles dropped away and she nearly collapsed, but strong arms held her up and dragged her across the room. She was dumped on the couch, and she heard the door close again and the locks tumble shut.

Steph lay on the sofa for several long minutes, raggedly breathing in and out, until she realized the hood she was still wearing was impeding air flow. Angrily, she ripped it off her head and looked around the room. Nothing had changed, yet everything had changed. She had to get out of here, and she had to do it herself. No man was going to rescue her. She would have to rescue herself.

Another day passed. Her plan was well thought out, and she'd implemented it the night before. It hadn't been easy. She had splinters so deep in her hand they might have to be surgically removed. She tried to be aware of time passing. It wouldn't be good if either of her captors figured out what she was up to. She'd considered just banging the chair against the floor until it splintered, but she was afraid they'd hear her. She didn't know if there was someone upstairs at all times, but there was someone there sometimes. She'd still been unable to make out any words, but she heard voices upstairs on a daily basis.

Now it was time. She was going after Ski Mask Man. Morty had been coming in unmasked since the evening she'd taunted him, but Ski Mask Man still wore his when he brought her breakfast. There was a lasciviousness in the looks Morty gave her, and she didn't like it. If she tried and failed with him, she was pretty sure she knew what would happen next. So, Ski Mask Man it was!

She scrubbed her teeth the best she could with a brown paper napkin and a swallow of her drinking water. She'd also tried to clean her face. There was nothing she could do about her unbathed body or frizzy hair. She heard the locks tumble. Showtime.

She took her position near the end of the sofa. Hopefully, the chair leg with the still attached supporting slat was hidden behind her, gripped tightly in her right hand. She wrapped her left arm around her middle, bent slightly forward and began moaning. When the door pushed open, she saw with satisfaction the bright morning sunlight silhouetting Ski Mask Man.

"Help," she whined. "I'm sick. I think I got food poisoning." She moaned loudly. She was trying to take his focus off the chair that was leaning three-legged against the table. He frowned and moved toward her. When she judged he was in range, she straightened, turned, grabbed the chair leg with both hands, and swung for the fences. There was a faintly hollow melon noise as she made contact with his head, and she grimaced at the sickening sound. She mentally fist-pumped, though, when she saw his knees buckle and the stun gun and food sack fall from his hands.

She dropped her makeshift club and grabbed the stun gun. It was the same model as Connie Rosolli's. It was charged and ready to use, so she did. Her blow had knocked him down, and the stun gun finished the job. The door was open. She looked at his feet and then bent to quickly remove his shoes. She shoved her partially numb toes down into them. The shoes were at least two sizes too big and two sizes too wide, but she laced them as quickly and tightly as she could and … ran!

Other than to notice the sun was shining, the air was crisp, and the street was empty, she was oblivious to her surroundings. Her feet hit the pavement with a funny _whomp whomp_ as the black leather Oxfords slid up and down on her heels. She ran to the corner and kept running. She didn't think anyone was behind her, but she didn't turn to look. She turned another corner and then another. She raced as fast as she could, looking for a safe place, but it was still early morning and everything looked closed up. The streets blurred past her as she ran. Her breathing was ragged, but when she saw the steps ahead she found a new burst of energy. She ran up the steps of the Trenton Free Public Library, and pulled on the door handle. Her heart sank. The door was locked.

She peered inside and saw someone walking down the corridor away from the door. She doubled up her fists and began pounding on the glass. The figure turned around and came back to the door. A young kid stared at her through the glass door, a horrified look on his face. She knew she must look like a crazy lady so she tried to smooth down the cloud of hair that floated around her head, and she smiled as nicely as she could. When she saw he was going to open the door, she took a step back.

The young kid pushed open the door and stuck his head outside. "Geez, lady, we don't open until nine." She ripped the door out of his hands, pushed him out of the way and ran to the circulation desk. Score one for the crazy lady.

She should have called 911, but she called Batman. When he answered, she said, "It's me. I'm at the library, downtown. Come get me." He didn't respond, but that was okay, because she knew he was already on his way.

...

The drive was the longest ten minutes of his life. He ran red lights and even drove up on the sidewalk at one point. What would normally have taken him twenty minutes, took him only ten.

He pulled up in front of the library and bounded from his vehicle. At the same time, Stephanie yanked open the glass door and raced down the steps. They met at the sidewalk, or more accurately, they collided. Steph leapt at Ranger from three feet away and he caught her as her legs wrapped around his waist.

They clung together for an eternity, or at least a minute, before speaking.

"Babe," Ranger whispered, pulling his face away from her swirling cloud of hair. He almost asked for a sit rep before catching himself. He was still in his command mode. "Are you injured?" he asked. Steph shook her head. His fingers slid across her cheek and she grimaced. She must have been bruised from the headshots she had taken the day before. "Were you followed?"

"I don't think so," she said, "but they've probably discovered I've escaped by now." She released her grip and let her legs drop to the ground, but she kept her arms around him, as he kept his around her.

"Can you show me where you were?" Ranger asked, brushing her hair away from her face.

Stephanie looked around, seeing her surroundings clearly for the first time. "No, I don't think I can," Steph answered. "I was just trying to get away. I ran for ... I don't know how many blocks. I came from that way." She pointed to the east. "But I turned so many corners. I just don't remember. I'm sorry." She sank her head against his chest.

Ranger picked up her hand and kissed her wrist, then did the same thing with her other wrist. The shackles had abraded her skin, and for the first time Steph acknowledged the pain she was in. She let out an involuntary sob.

"It's okay," he told her, stroking her back, touching her, pulling her even closer. "You're safe now. I'm here." When she lifted her head and looked at him, he could see the dark circles under her eyes, which were puffy as well. There was a dull, oily sheen to her skin, and her eyelids were drooping. He bent and brushed his lips across hers. "Just a few more questions. Who kidnapped you?" he asked, his voice softer now.

Tears filled the corners of her eyes. "I don't know."

"Tell me what you do know, Babe," he asked as kindly as he could, but he was seething inside, wanting to punish, to hurt her captors.

"I will, but can we get away from here?" Steph swiveled her head first one way and then the other, frantically looking around her. "What if they come looking for me? They have guns."

"I have guns," he spat out, again trying to control his anger. "I'd like nothing more than for them to come looking for you." His hands tightened on her arms until she winced. Upset with himself, he gently rubbed her arms and kissed her on the forehead.

"Can we go?" she pleaded. "Now."

"Yeah, let's get you home." He helped her into the passenger seat of his SUV, noticing her unusual shoes. "Not quite your style, Babe," he teased, hoping to see the fear leave her face.

She leaned over and looked down at the black Oxfords on her feet. "Yeah, that'll teach me to leave home in my bare feet. They've been frozen for days. Let's see how Ski Mask Man likes frozen toes."

"Ski Mask Man?" Ranger queried, as he buckled her in and closed her door. He quickly made his way to the driver's side.

As they pulled away from the curb, Steph answered his question. "That was my name for one of my captors. They wore black ski masks, so I couldn't see their faces."

"That could be a good thing. It sounds like they intended to let you go, eventually."

"I thought that too, at first, but I changed my mind on that. One of them took off his mask a couple of days ago. And he told me his name was Morty. He also said they were going to take me out. I feel stupid now, but I didn't think that meant kill me, but he made it clear that I wasn't getting out of there alive."

Ranger's jaw clenched noticeably. "What else do you remember?"

Steph slowly moved her head from side to side, her brows furrowed. "There was something they said, something I didn't want to think about then, but I know it was important." She dropped her face in her hands and scrubbed, trying to clear her head. "I'm sorry, Ranger. I'm tired. And hungry ... and thirsty. And filthy. They only fed me fast food, twice a day. And a small bottle of water. Can we stop someplace and get something to eat? And a Coke. I'm dying for a Coke."

Ranger's mouth turned up a little at the corners.

Steph grinned back. "Probably not the best choice of words to use. But I really am thirsty."

He reached over and picked up her hand, bringing it to his lips. "Sure, Babe. Anything you want. Anywhere."

"Anyplace but McDonald's. I don't think I'll be able to eat there, ever again."

They drove through Cluck-In-A-Bucket and loaded up on fried chicken, fries and a super-sized Coca Cola. And a bottle of water for Ranger. He let Steph stuff her face before he started in with the questions again.

"What happened at your apartment? There was evidence of a struggle. And there was blood."

Steph was silent for a moment. "That seems so long ago. I remember getting ready for you, for our night together." She looked over at Ranger. He nodded.

"I walked out into the living room and they were there. Two guys. With ski masks. One guy grabbed me and I kneed him in the balls. I head-butted the other guy and broke his nose. He bled quite a bit," she said with satisfaction. "And then, they brought out the stun gun, and that's all she wrote."

Ranger's right arm was around her shoulders in a flash. He gave her a moment and then asked, "What happened when you woke up?"

Steph shuddered and swallowed loudly. "I was tied up in the trunk of a car. I don't know how long I was out, so I can't give you an estimate of the driving time. They hauled me out and forced me down some stairs to a basement room. There were no windows and the door had a million locks on it. I never knew if it was night or day." She described the room to Ranger, including its similarities to the room they'd rescued Mooner and Dougie from, a few years ago. Ranger did not look pleased.

They were on Hamilton Avenue now and traffic had picked up, so Ranger was concentrating on his driving. He told her about him arriving that evening to pick her up and finding the apartment in a mess, and calling the police. He explained what they and he had been doing to find her, and how few clues they had to go on.

"Babe," he began, "we need to go to the police station, and you need to tell them everything that happened." He looked over at Steph. She had scooched down in the seat as far as the seat belt would allow and her head was against the back cushion. She was fast asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Interrogation**

Stephanie spent a long time in Ranger's shower. She wanted to wash away every vestige of her miserable and filthy confinement. She noticed a slight bruising on her abdomen. Her captors had been rough with her during the mysterious confrontation she'd had. The woman had obviously been in charge. She thought there had been some nonverbal communication between her, Morty and the other guy. It seemed like it had been a well-orchestrated attack.

They had wanted to hurt her, but not, in Morty's words, take her out. Whomever the woman was, she had an agenda. The plan was to keep her locked up and scared, until the woman had enough fun. Then they probably planned to kill her in some horrible, slow and painful way. That thought had Steph's knees buckling.

They'd been successful in part. Stephanie couldn't remember ever being so scared. She'd been in terrible situations before, but she'd always known her attackers and, in the back of her mind, she always knew Ranger would never let anything bad happen to her. This time was different, and the fear she felt was all too real. It was the fear that had motivated her to try and escape. Her plan had worked and much to her relief, her fear had gone from the gut-wrenching kind to the low anxiety she was experiencing now, at the simple thought that the shower might run out of hot water before she was ready to get out. Oh yeah, it was Ranger's shower, not the crappy one in her apartment. Her last little dregs of anxiety washed down the drain with the Bulgari suds. She was safe; she was with Ranger.

"Babe?" His voice was tentative, as though he didn't want to bother her, but wanted to make sure she was okay.

"I'm almost done," she told him.

"Good. There are fresh clothes for you in the dressing room. You'll need to get out and get dressed quickly. There will be Federal agents here to speak with you soon."

"Federal agents?" She frowned at the squeak in her voice. "I already talked to the Trenton PD. Why do I have to talk with the Feds?"

"Trenton PD asked for assistance from the FBI. It's a common occurrence when there's been a kidnapping. I have a towel here. C'mon and get out, and I'll help you dry off."

"I, uh," Stephanie hesitated. She knew Ranger wouldn't take the bruising on her abdomen calmly. She wasn't calm about it either, but she wanted to put some distance between her and the incident before she had to talk about it. She knew she was the victim, but she had funny feelings about it. It couldn't be guilt. She wasn't at fault. She knew that and yet she still felt sort of embarrassed that they had been able to grab her and mistreat her. It had been two to one. She'd fought them off as best she could, but she wondered if she hadn't been recovering from her gunshot wound if she could have done better. That she should have done better.

Ranger must have grown tired of waiting for her to answer, because she felt the cool draft of air as the glass door opened and clouds of steam escaped. Ranger curled his fingers around her wet forearm and tugged gently.

"Let's get this over with, Babe," he said. "The sooner you talk to these guys, the sooner I can get a good start on finding whoever did this to you. And if it is a woman, like you think, let me reassure you, I won't go easy on her."

Stephanie let herself be pulled out of the shower. She turned into the big fluffy towel Ranger was holding. She waited, but he made no comment about her bruising, so she relaxed and let him softly rub the towel against her. It was an unbelievable luxury, after the miserable days she'd just had, to let Ranger pamper her. She was safe and wrapped in the arms of a man who loved her, who cherished her. No one could blame her for letting Ranger take charge, and yet she had a funny feeling about that too, sort of like the one she had about being captured in the first place.

With a feather touch, his fingers stroked her temple as he gazed into her eyes. She felt a responding pull deep inside her as she returned his gaze. His eyes lingered on her face. He hesitated, and then pulled her close, his open hand brushing across the growing bruise on her abdomen. "I won't let anyone who's hurt you this way live. I couldn't live with myself if I allowed that," he uttered. She remembered Eddie Abruzzi and knew he spoke the truth.

"Do you need help getting dressed?" he asked her as he took a step back.

With a sigh, she solemnly told him, "No, I can handle it, but usually you want to help me get undressed. I like that scenario better."

Ranger almost smiled. "I know you don't want to talk to the FBI, Babe. I'll run interference when I can, but they are insisting on talking to you so we might as well get it over with as soon as possible."

Stephanie sighed. "Okay. I'll get dressed—all by myself. When and where am I going to talk to these guys?"

"In my office on five," he said. His phone beeped and he glanced at the screen. "I just got a message that they're in the building, so as soon as you get down there, we'll get started." He moved close to her again and pulled the towel tighter around her. His hand skimmed the length of her back. "And then," he said softly into her ear. "We'll come back up here and I'll help you get undressed."

She smiled at him. "Okay, you help me and…" her hands slid around him "…I'll help you." For some reason, the idea of the two of them doing things together felt better than just letting Ranger take care of her. She raised her face and stood on her tiptoes, signaling it was time for a kiss. He gladly obliged.

The agents were waiting in Ranger's office when Stephanie made her appearance. A man and a woman. They stood and as Stephanie moved deeper into the office the man held out his hand. At first Stephanie thought he wanted to shake hands with her, but then she realized he was showing her his credentials.

He introduced himself even as she read his name. "I'm Special Agent Jason Black, and this is my partner, Special Agent Marie White, and yes, those are our real names." Stephanie looked up into a face that showed no signs of humor. Apparently, one too many jokes had been made regarding he and his partner's names. "Our colleagues say we are aptly named as black and white is how we run our investigation. We keep the questions straightforward and we'd like your answers to be the same. Your cooperation is essential to the success of our investigation."

"Investigation," Stephanie repeated. She'd been kidnapped and now she was an investigation. "Are you implying I won't tell the truth?" Stephanie asked, frown wrinkles marring her forehead.

"No, not at all," Marie White said. "We just want you to be as accurate as possible." She gave Stephanie a soft smile and suddenly it hit Stephanie, this was going to be a good cop-bad cop game. She wasn't in the mood for it.

"I will give you the same answers I gave Detective Bouchard earlier," Stephanie told them. "I told the truth then, and I will tell it now. And I'd like to remind you, I was the one kidnapped, not the one doing it."

"We understand that, Ms. Plum." Again, Marie flashed the little smile after her statement.

Ranger had been standing in the doorway. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Mr. Mañoso, we appreciate the use of your office," Black said, "but your presence isn't necessary. We'd prefer to talk to Ms. Plum alone."

"That won't be a possibility," Ranger said. "If you don't want me in here I will get the corporation's attorney down here. We understand that Stephanie is the victim. We want to make certain you understand it as well. So I can stay, or we can postpone this until a later time when Ms. Plum has legal counsel. Your choice."

Marie White addressed Ranger in a clear firm voice. "I'm sorry my partner's words were misconstrued. We, of course, understand completely who is the wounded party here." She shot a look at her partner and he nodded slightly. "You can stay for the questioning."

"In that case, why don't you two sit in these chairs in front of the desk. I'll let Stephanie have the seat behind the desk. She's been through some trauma, and it's the most comfortable chair. I'll stand here by the door."

Stephanie caught the look that passed between the two agents and bit back a smile. The chairs in front of his desk were fairly new, and uncomfortable. She'd accused Ranger of getting hard-backed chairs with stiff seat pads on purpose … to discourage people from lounging in his office. He hadn't denied it. Now he was purposefully placing the agents in an inferior position to the one she would have behind his desk. Ranger was in protector mode, and she was enjoying it.

Ranger didn't interfere with their interrogation. His presence calmed Stephanie who was nervous. She didn't know what the nerves were all about. She was the injured party, not someone on trial, and she knew they got that. Their questions were black and white, not meant to trick her but meant to elicit the most information they could, but they repeated them several times. And the more they asked, the more nervous she became.

Part of her wanted to tell them only the bare bones, because she wanted to get the interview over and get back upstairs with Ranger. But it only took a few minutes for her to realize the questions would keep coming until the agents were satisfied they had all the information she possessed.

With a sigh, she gave in and cooperated fully. She told them everything she could remember. She'd talked with the Trenton PD. If she satisfied these special agents, then maybe she wouldn't have to talk to anyone else. And at least what she said here was likely to stay with the Agency and not be broadcast to Joe. Not that she had anything against Joe. But she'd moved on and she didn't think he had any reason to be involved in what was going on in her life now. The Trenton PD had a gossip grapevine that rivaled the Burg's, so she was sure Joe already had some of the details, in any case.

She told the agents about Morty and the other, still unnamed Ski Mask Man. She told them about the time she and Ranger had rescued Dougie and Mooner, and how the room she was held in reminded her of that. She suspected the men were Mob, but she'd had no recent dealings with the Mob, and definitely none that were adversarial. It was hard to live in the Burg and not have _some_ contact with the Mob. She told them about Morty's slip of the tongue that told her the men were working for a woman ... and then, she told them about the woman who hated her so much.

It took an hour and by the end of the interview, Stephanie was tired. She'd agreed to a late afternoon appointment with an FBI sketch artist. She thought she could give them a good description of Morty. She gave them his shoes, although she figured the only DNA they'd get from them would be hers.

She'd described the area around the building she'd been held in the best she could, but she couldn't remember much about her frantic flight. She estimated how long and how far she'd run, before ending up at the library. The agents said they'd concentrate their search for her prison in a circle with a half-mile radius from the library.

They were efficient, relentless, and seemed compassionate, at least Marie White did. Every once in a while, Jason Black would throw in a zinger that made her wonder if he thought she had faked the whole thing.

They shook her hand at the end of their questioning and promised her they'd find her abductors. She thanked them and said a prayer of thanks that the interview was over. Now she could go upstairs with Ranger. She wanted to make love, but she wanted to talk to him, too. She thought they should talk first, but when Ranger returned from seeing the agents off the floor, the look in his eyes told her they would talk last. That was okay. She could compromise.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: True Romance**

"How are you feeling?" Ranger asked as he closed the apartment door, hoping to put the day, the interrogations, and the stress behind them.

"Fine."

"You're not tired? It's been a long, rough day for you. Not having any pain in your abdomen? Bobby could check you out, if need be."

"It's really nothing," Stephanie replied.

"I saw the bruising on your abdomen. And the abrasions on your face. It's something. And it's something you didn't tell either the TPD detective or the Special Agents. Tell me."

Steph sighed. She'd guessed wrong. They were going to talk first. "They shackled me ... and ... they..." Steph took a deep breath, "... they hit me," she said. "It's what pushed me over the edge, and made me finally try to escape. Remember I told you they put a hood over my head and someone, a woman, came in to talk to me?"

"Yes."

"Well, they …" she stopped talking while she tried, unsuccessfully, to control the whole body shudders that were racking her. Ranger stepped close and wrapped her in his arms. "They hooked my hands and feet to chains on the wall. And after the woman accused and insulted me, she hit me. In the stomach and across my face. And then they all left."

"They left you tied up?" he asked. His voice was soft and well-controlled, and Steph knew from experience that meant he was hanging on to his temper, barely. She didn't want him to lose it, even if it wasn't directed toward her. She hurried to explain.

"No. They unhooked me. They left the hood on and I didn't take it off until after they left. I'm sorry I wasn't brave, but if I hadn't been so afraid of what they were going to do to me next, I wouldn't have tried to escape. So, in a way, being afraid helped me get out."

"Babe, acting in the face of fear is the definition of bravery. You were very, very brave. Come with me. I have something for you." He took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

He opened the drawer of the nightstand and reached in. He took her left hand and slid her engagement ring back on her fourth finger.

"You found it!" she exclaimed. "I left it as a message, a clue, for you."

"I found it," Ranger said. "I saw it and..." he paused ever so slightly, "I was afraid ... of what had happened to you. I knew you hadn't gone of your own accord. I vowed then to find you and place this ring back on your finger, but before I could, you were able to free yourself. If it was your fear that motivated you to attempt an escape, then be thankful and not ashamed. Your fear brought you back to me. Don't ever be ashamed of admitting fear, Babe."

His hands cupped her face. He bent his head and his lips grazed the bruise on her cheek. Ranger liked to take his time, she knew that well enough, but she was impatient. She turned her head until his lips grazed hers, instead of the bruise. He took the hint and kissed her deeply, passionately. She was feeling not only his desire, but his relief in having her back. They stayed like that for a while, standing close, their arms wrapped tightly around one another, kissing and sharing a quiet intimacy.

Ranger released his hold on her and stepped back, and Stephanie felt an immediate sense of loss at the contact. When she realized he'd only pulled away to begin undressing her, a surge of desire flooded her body and made her limbs weak.

"I need to lie down," she said.

He smiled and kissed her at the base of her neck. "I'm working on it, Babe." She pushed his hands away and ripped her shirt off over her head. Then she attacked his shirt, pulling it loose from the waistband of his slacks, running her fingers over the contoured planes of his abdomen.

"I need to lie down," she said again.

"Me, too," Ranger told her. He finished the job she'd started and shed the rest of his clothes quickly. She did the same. They stood for a moment looking at one another and then Ranger pulled her close again, and the feel of his skin against hers sent another wave of desire through her. He was ready. She could feel him hard and pulsing against her abdomen. He bent toward the bed and pulled her with him, so that she was lying on top of him.

He was giving her the power to control their lovemaking. It was a generous gift, given that she could see his need for her and sense it in his touch. But he understood that she had a need beyond the physical satiation. It was a need she hadn't fully realized until that moment, to be in control of what was happening between them. Because for the last few days of her life, her freedom and choices had been violently stripped from her. He was giving up his control to her, putting her back in charge of the most elemental part of her life. This man loved her.

Later, when they were holding each other, luxuriating in the afterglow, she touched his chin and turned his face to her. "That night, the night they took me, were you going to take me to the Bat Cave?"

"It was my plan," Ranger said. "I thought it would be a surprise. How did you know?"

"I know you," Stephanie told him. "And all the time I was in that basement I kept thinking about it. How I'd missed seeing it. I hoped I'd get the chance, eventually, but for a while I wasn't sure if it would ever happen."

Ranger propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at her. "Let's go now," he said. "We'll get dressed and go spend the rest of the day there. Tomorrow, I'll begin in earnest to find the person responsible for your kidnapping."

Stephanie placed her hand on his chest. "No," she countered. "I don't want to go to the Bat Cave." At his frown she continued. "Hear me out on this. I've been afraid of getting married, because I screwed it up so royally the first time. I imagine you know that."

"I know Dickie," Ranger said. "I know who screwed up your marriage. And I'm not Dickie, you damn well know that!"

"I didn't mean to imply that you were like Dickie. It isn't logical, and I know that, but I've been afraid to set the date. Not anymore though. I'm over that, but I want to wait until three days after we catch the assholes that took me. Then I'll go to the Bat Cave."

"Babe?"

"It takes three days of waiting to get a marriage license," she said. "Three days after this is over I want to go to the Bat Cave and marry you. And I don't want anyone there but two witnesses and a minister."

"No family?"

She shuddered as the vision of a church full of her family on one side and Ranger's on the other passed before her eyes. "No family," she said. "But maybe we could have a reception. With lots of wine."

Ranger laughed and pulled her once again on top of him. "It's a deal. Three days after we catch whomever is responsible for taking you. I've already got a start on finding this pervert. I've got a good lead to follow up."

"I've got a lead, too," she said. "I've been thinking about who would want to hurt me, and I always come back to one name. The problem is, I can't think of anything I've done recently to get her so angry."

"Who, Babe?"

"Joyce Barnhardt," she stated. Ranger pulled back his head and frowned at her. "Ranger, I need to ask you…" Stephanie was uncomfortable asking Ranger about his past. The last time she'd done it he told her the story of Grace Galloway, and his relationship with her. That story had about killed her. Finding out Ranger had been involved with Joyce _would_ kill her. She was convinced of that.

"About Joyce," she said. "Did you and her, I mean, did she, uh …"

"Have I slept with Joyce?" Ranger said. "Is that what you're asking?"

"Yes."

"No."

Relief flooded through her at his one-word response. His explanation wasn't so relieving. "Joyce pursued me," he told her. "It started out as irritating, and then became much more. When I found her in my bed, naked…"

"What!" Stephanie exclaimed, as she pulled away and sat up. "In this bed?"

Ranger sighed deeply. "Do you remember Miles?"

Stephanie was confused at the apparent change of topic, but she struggled to remember why the name Miles was vaguely familiar. "The Merry Man that worked here for a while?"

"Yes, the same," Ranger said. "He was a big mistake. I hired him because I thought he showed promise. Joyce hit on him and he fell for her. She seduced him into letting her enter this apartment. When I found her here, I threw her out onto the street, naked. I let her keep her cell phone and gave her cab fare. Ella disposed of the rest of her things and, uh, sanitized the apartment. I let Tank go two rounds on the mats with Miles and then, as soon as he was discharged from the hospital, I fired him."

Stephanie started at him in astonishment.

"I told you I was a brute, Babe."

"Well, that settles it. It must be Joyce," she said, incredulously. "The woman's voice was muffled. It could have been Joyce, maybe. She said, 'You came between me and my man.'" Stephanie frowned. "But she also said you handcuffed her, before you made love. So, maybe it isn't Joyce."

"I did handcuff her," Ranger said, thinking back. "She showed up at Vinnie's one morning when I was turning in some paperwork—I was still doing skips for him at the time—and she followed me out of the office. I couldn't get rid of her, so I cuffed her to the side mirror of her car and called TPD to report it anonymously."

"She must hate your guts," Stephanie said. "Or mine, for taking what she thought was hers. But where would Joyce get two thugs to work for her? And that place … I wasn't the first person held there. Joyce wouldn't have access to a place like that, would she?"

"She might," Ranger said. He told Stephanie about his visit to Dickie, and Dickie's whine that Joyce had dumped him for a Mob boss. "I'm going to track down Joyce," he said. He threw back the covers and stood. "And I'm starting now."

"Wait," Stephanie called. "You can't!" Ranger turned and looked at her. He waited for her explanation.

"I have to do this. I can't let you fight my battles for me. You said bravery was acting on my fear. I'm afraid if I don't act on this it will set a precedent for us. I have to fight my own battles. You don't want a woman that has to be taken care of. You want me! I can't let you change who I am!" Her impassioned outburst caused her a moment's alarm. She'd said he didn't want a woman who couldn't take care of herself … but maybe he did. He'd been cleaning up her messes as long as he'd known her.

Ranger came back to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. "I understand what you're saying. But it goes both ways. You can't shut me out of this. We're together, so maybe we should approach this together. We can share the task of finding your kidnappers."

"Okay," Stephanie said, relieved that the situation could be so easily remedied. Life without the arm-waving Italian rants she'd become accustomed to with Joe was going to be so good! "Let's go get Joyce!"

"Slow down. We'll share the investigation. I'll share everything I know, and you share everything you know, but I go see Joyce alone. You have a history with her, a physical history. I don't want to have to prevent you from murdering her on top of everything else!"

Stephanie flushed. He had a point. Ever since Joyce had rekindled her _thing_ with Dickie, Steph had had a hard time keeping calm around Joyce. She did tend to fly into a rage when either Dickie or Joyce was involved. Ranger continued, "You stay here for this one, Babe. You need to be accessible for the FBI sketch artist. The sooner that sketch is in police hands, the better. And you need to talk to your family. Let them know you're okay. I need to make a quick trip to New York tonight to find Joyce. She has an apartment here down by the river, but she hasn't been there for a while. I tracked her to the City. I'll be back soon, and hopefully with some answers."

Having to stay here and let Ranger do this without her grated on her, but she finally relented. Something was telling her that if Joyce were the woman, Ranger wouldn't find her in New York. Plus, she was exhausted and knew she would be more of a burden to Ranger tonight than a help if she forced him to take her along. "All right," she said, "but you'd better tell me everything that happens when you see her." Stephanie continued, giving in a little ungraciously, "I'll just stay here and wait for you to come back."

"You have a big job to do while I'm gone, Babe. A dangerous one. It will be another chance for you to conquer your fear and act with bravery." At her puzzled look, he continued. "You have to tell your mother, and mine, that we've decided on a private wedding ceremony."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: The Godfather**

It didn't take long for Ranger to jimmy open the door. He slipped inside. It was dark, but there was enough moonlight from the many windows to avoid the furniture and make his way across the living area. The apartment was quiet. He did a quick scan of the interior and then followed the hallway down to the master bedroom where he eased the door open. There were loud snores coming from the enormous four-poster bed across from him. Flipping on the light switch, Ranger quickly glided to the foot of the bed, gun drawn.

The scene before him was surreal. The bed was shrouded along the sides with yards and yards of red brocade drapes, while the mattress appeared to be a deep plush feather bed in which the two occupants were nearly invisible. The first one to pop up was the woman. It was Joyce Barnhardt, in all her naked glory, except for an elaborate headdress made of peacock feathers, with an attached gold eye mask. Much more slowly, a man pulled himself up and leaned back against the padded headboard. He was an elderly man, also naked, but his glory days were long, long ago. On his head was a white powdered wig, slightly askew.

"What the fuck?" Joyce said, staring at Ranger as she shoved the eye mask up onto her forehead.

The old man wasn't so kind. He fumbled in the pile of bed linen until he came up with a sword. He waved it at Ranger and shouted, "I'm going to gut you, you cad. How dare you intrude upon the inner sanctum of the king?" He tried to climb out, but floundered in the deep mattress.

Amidst the chaos happening in the bed, Ranger heard the click of a safety being released. He turned and there was a man in the bedroom doorway pointing a very large gun at him.

"I suggest you slowly lower your weapon and place it on the floor," the armed man said. "Then kick it over to me." He was an older man, but not nearly as old as the man in the bed. He also looked very calm and composed, unlike the man in the bed who looked quite crazy.

Ranger hesitated a moment, and then complied. The man picked up Ranger's gun and tucked it into his waistband. He flicked his gun and told Ranger, "Walk slowly out of the room. The Don doesn't need to upset himself with this." He then glanced over at Joyce, who was sputtering indignities. "Ms. Barnhardt, if you would, please calm Don Tito down. I'm going to have a talk with our intruder."

Joyce screeched, "What the hell are you doing here, Ranger?" She glanced over at the man with the gun. "I know this man, Frank, but I have no idea what he's doing here."

At the same time, the elderly man was also yelling orders, the main one being, "Off with his head. Take him to the guillotine and cut off his head. Now, dammit!"

"Don Tito, I will take care of this intruder. Please, go back to bed," Frank said, then he looked at Joyce. "Don't worry about this guy, Ms. Barnhardt," Frank said, gesturing toward Ranger. "Right now, I need you to take care of Don Tito. He shouldn't get this excited." He again motioned to Ranger to step outside the bedroom.

When Ranger approached the door, Frank stepped back and allowed Ranger to exit and then he quickly shut the bedroom door behind them. There was an audible click. As Ranger walked down the long hallway, he could hear Joyce yelling and pounding on the locked door. By the time they reached the living room, the pounding was muffled and he couldn't hear her yelling anymore.

Frank turned on the lights and indicated that Ranger was to take a seat. While the man seemed composed and in control, he was not particularly threatening, though he did keep his gun trained on Ranger.

Ranger glanced around the room. The furniture looked like something out of a museum. The chairs and sofas were gold and red brocade with ornate legs, the tables were squat things made of wood and had lots of gold embellishments. The walls were covered in fancy striped wallpaper with fleurs-de-lis at the top, and the paintings were all of men and women wearing elaborate costumes and white powdered wigs.

Ranger lowered himself onto one of the high-backed chairs.

Frank took the chair across from him. He removed a cell phone from his coat pocket and texted a brief message, and then looked back up at Ranger. He still had the gun trained on him.

"Frank Santora," the man said. "And you are?"

"Carlos Mañoso," Ranger replied.

"Normally, I'd shoot first and ask questions later, but I don't think you came here to harm Don Tito DeCarlo." Frank paused as he studied the man sitting across from him. Ranger was leaning back in the chair, his forearms resting on the polished wooden arms. "Ms. Barnhardt called you Ranger."

Ranger shrugged. "It's a nickname."

Frank nodded and then went silent. They both sat there for several minutes, not saying anything. Ranger was debating how to approach the subject of a mob kidnapping under his present circumstances.

The front door opened and three men walked in. Two remained by the door and the third man strode across the room to Ranger. He was of average height and weight, but he had an aura of command about him. He was obviously the man in charge. He glanced at Frank and an unspoken communication passed between them. He turned his gaze on Ranger and announced himself, "I'm Salvatore DeCarlo."

Ranger stood, carefully, and held out his hand. "Carlos Mañoso."

DeCarlo hesitated just a moment before shaking Ranger's hand. Then both he and Ranger sat down. "Mr. Mañoso, this is my uncle's apartment. Why did you break in tonight?"

Ranger debated before replying. "I came here to see Joyce Barnhardt."

DeCarlo frowned. "Regarding what, may I ask? You had a gun drawn in my uncle's presence. Are you a former boyfriend of Ms. Barnhardt?"

Ranger resisted an eye roll, and said, "No. She and my fiancé are acquainted, but I wouldn't call them friends. It is important that I speak with Joyce. I think she may have been involved in a situation that happened in Trenton last week."

DeCarlo moved his head slightly sideways, as if in negation. "Ms. Barnhardt has been here for more than two weeks. She hasn't left my uncle's side. What is it that you think she may have been involved in?"

Ranger hesitated briefly. "My fiancé was kidnapped nearly a week ago and held against her will. Fortunately, she was able to escape. The men who held her seemed to have ...um... _family_ connections, and the one calling the shots was a woman, a woman familiar with my fiancé. My investigations led me here."

DeCarlo nodded. "A reasonable assumption, if you just looked at the surface. But, for one, we have nothing to do with the happenings in Trenton. I mean, c'mon, it's Jersey." He gave a slight smile. "And second, as I said, Ms. Barnhardt has been holed up in this apartment for at least two weeks. I have the security tapes to prove it. And she has no control over my men. Neither does my uncle."

Now, it was Ranger's turn to frown. "Your uncle and Joyce..."

DeCarlo made a disgusted sound. "My uncle met Ms. Barnhardt several months ago and became smitten with her. You may have noticed that my uncle can be a little ... eccentric." He spread his arm around the room. "He is obsessed with 18th century France. In fact, he thinks he lives there." DeCarlo blew out a noisy breath. "Mr. Mañoso, if I may be blunt, my uncle has senile dementia. It is no secret to those who know him. I love my uncle, and he was once our Don, and a powerful and intelligent man. To see him like this is hard, but I promised my aunt I would take care of him. Ms. Barnhardt seems to calm him down, and she plays along with his fantasies." He shrugged. "It cuts down on the prostitute expenses."

"Did you hire Joyce to perform ... certain services?" Ranger asked.

DeCarlo snorted. "Hardly. It is my impression that Ms. Barnhardt thinks my uncle is still head of the Family, and that he is rich. She's been trying to get him to marry her for months. My uncle hasn't been active in the business for many years, but because of the man we remember and love, we humor him. We protect him from himself. Ms. Barnhardt seemed like a harmless diversion, but I think she has outworn her usefulness."

Ranger straightened, but DeCarlo waved him down. "Don't worry. No harm will come to her. But her affiliation with my uncle will be terminated. I'll explain to her that he has no money, and I think that will put an end to Ms. Barnhardt and my uncle."

Ranger took all this in. He believed Sal DeCarlo. The evidence was all there, and it sounded like something Joyce would do. But it didn't explain what happened with Stephanie.

"I'm still left with a mob connection in the abduction of my fiancé," Ranger said.

"As I said earlier, we have nothing to do with matters in Jersey. There are several smaller families down there," DeCarlo noted. "Nowadays, we don't have much to do with them, but in my uncle's day, they all knew one another. In Trenton, there's the Salerno family, and I think the Romanos are still active. And Vito Grizzoli. My uncle used to buy Cuban cigars and rum from old Vito. That was one of Grizzoli's specialities, imports from Cuba." He snorted. "That'll be at an end now that the trade embargo against Cuba has been lifted." DeCarlo stood as he told Ranger, "I'm sorry I can't give you more recent information, but times have changed. The New Jersey families are dying out. My family's business is focused here, in New York."

Ranger stood and held out his hand. Sal DeCarlo reciprocated. "I hope you find the men responsible. We don't abduct women. We have never been involved in the prostitution business. My uncle refused to trade in human beings, and I have followed in his footsteps. I wish you well, Mr. Mañoso."

"Thank you for your time and trouble. I'm sorry if I inconvenienced you. You have been very gracious ... and helpful," Ranger said. He turned toward Frank, who retrieved the gun he'd taken from Ranger. He held it out in his upturned palm. Ranger acknowledged Frank with a nod and returned his weapon to its holster.

Sal gave a signal to the men at the door, and they let Ranger depart.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: The Hitman**

Stephanie awoke to the sound of her phone ringing. It was very early in the morning. She stretched her arms above her head and then reached for the phone, when the realization hit her. This time yesterday, she was still in that horrible basement terrified and waiting for her chance to escape. What a difference a day makes!

"Babe, did I wake you?" Ranger asked when she mumbled into the phone.

Stephanie smiled. If she had to be woken up before the crack of dawn, hearing her fiancé's voice was the second best way. First best would be him waking her up with a kiss. "Yeah, but it's okay," she said. "Did you find her?" Her voice was raspy and her words slurred. She probably sounded like she'd been on a three-day drunk, but the truth was she'd slept so deeply she was having trouble reentering the real world. Her ordeal had really exhausted her. She always felt safe at RangeMan, and she'd been enjoying sleeping in a comfortable bed instead of on a lumpy last-century sofa.

"I found her," Ranger said. "I don't think she's the one. It looks like Joyce has an irrefutable alibi."

Steph let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. It wasn't Joyce! So, who was it? "Are you sure?" she asked.

"I've still got some facts to check, but yeah, I'm sure," he confirmed. "What are your plans for the day?"

She exhaled noisily. "I'm going to see my mother. And then I'm going to talk to Connie. She knows more about the Mob in Trenton than anyone else I know."

"I just spoke with Tank," Ranger told her. "He's flying into Newark from Atlanta this morning. He should be at RangeMan in two hours. He will be accompanying you today."

Stephanie couldn't find her voice to respond.

"Babe?"

"I'm here," she said. What was wrong with her? She'd just been reveling in the feeling of safety, and yet when Ranger arbitrarily assigned Tank to her, her hackles had gone up.

"I don't want you outside of the building without protection."

Stephanie sighed. "I know. And I understand. I don't want to be taken again. It's just that when you said that, it sounded like … an order." Now there was silence on his end of the line.

"Ranger? Are you still there?"

"I'm here," he said. "I'm used to giving orders. That's probably why it sounded like one. I know you won't take unnecessary chances, but I won't either, not with your life at stake." There was another pause and his voice was different, more hoarse, when he spoke again. "It was a bad time for you when you were taken, but it was a bad time for me, too."

Stephanie was stunned at his words. It was an apology, of sorts, for his high-handedness, and also an admission. He'd been worried about her. She knew it, of course, but now he'd said it. A lump rose in her throat and tears threatened. She had caused Ranger pain, and she didn't want to do it again.

"I'll wait for Tank," she told him, her voice softening. "Are you still in the City? When will I see you?"

"I'm still in New York, but I'll be back in time for an early dinner and a … quiet evening in," he said.

Her heartbeat quickened at the thought of a quiet evening in. "I'll be here waiting for you." She disconnected and rolled over in the big empty bed. Tank wouldn't be back for two hours. She smiled and thought, might as well get a little more sleep. She'd need to be well-rested for a quiet evening with Ranger.

...

"Thanks," Stephanie said. She looked sideways at Tank. His black RangeMan uniform fit him like a second skin. He looked at ease behind the wheel of the fleet vehicle. He had looked equally at ease with his arms folded across his chest as he sat quietly in her father's armchair. Helen Plum hadn't looked at ease, at all. Her anxiety, Stephanie knew, came partly from worry that her husband would come home to find an interloper in his chair, and partly from the sheer physical presence of the man filling the Barcalounger.

"For what?" Tank queried.

"For scaring the bejeezus out of my mother. She was so intimidated she hardly harped at me at all. You made that visit almost painless."

"I do what I can," he replied. "Where to next?"

"The bonds office." She sat back as he turned the SUV away from the Burg. "Ranger said you just got back from Atlanta. Something going on at the RangeMan office there?"

"No, it wasn't a business trip." There was just the slightest hesitation. "It was pleasure."

"Oh." _Oh!_ Realization sunk in. He'd been visiting Grace. Ugh! Tank's new mistress was Ranger's old mistress. She did a mental eye-roll. Grace wasn't just Ranger's former lover; she really was his old lover. Way older than Ranger or Tank. Like, old enough to be their mother. She'd suspected that Grace still had feelings for Ranger, so she had been both surprised and a little relieved when she found out that the flirting between Tank and Grace in the safe house here in Trenton had morphed into something more permanent, including lots of long weekends in Savannah for the seemingly odd couple. Tank and Grace! Who could have predicted that pairing?

She thought for a moment about Grace and her obvious feelings for Ranger. Grace was like still water, and who really knew what was running under the surface? What had her captor said? _"You brought this on yourself, bitch. You came between me and my man."_

Ranger said it wasn't Joyce. Could it have been Grace? It didn't sound like something Grace would have said, but still… She shook her head to clear the thought. Grace wouldn't have had Mob muscle. Grace would have taken a more devious, more ladylike route to revenge. Grace would have…

"Uh, how is Grace?" she asked Tank.

"She's fine."

"Does she ever mention Ranger?"

"What are you asking me, Stephanie?"

"I'm asking if Grace ever mentions Ranger?"

Tank laughed. "You're pretty easy to read. Why don't you ask what you're really thinking?"

"What do you mean?"

"You wondering if Grace was somehow involved in your kidnapping. The answer is no."

Stephanie felt her cheeks flushing. "I just asked if she ever mentions Ranger. I said nothing about her being involved."

"You were thinking it, though. You're wondering if I'm some sort of distraction, or maybe a consolation prize since she can't have Ranger."

Stephanie was appalled, because she was thinking just that. "No! I …"

"I don't know who grabbed you, Steph, or why," he said, "But it wasn't Grace." He stared at Steph until she nodded, and then he continued. "We'll find whoever took you and we'll find out why."

"I know," Stephanie said. "The FBI is working on it. I sat with the sketch artist yesterday. They'll get them."

"Fuck the FBI. _We'll_ find them. And they'll know justice!" She was surprised at the vehemence in his voice. He pulled the SUV into an empty space in front of the bonds office. "Go talk to Connie. I'll wait here." As Steph opened her door, Tank reached out and laid his hand on her arm. "Just to keep everything up front and out in the open, I want you to know that I personally investigated Connie and her, um, family connections. I'm positive she had nothing to do with this."

Stephanie frowned. "Of course she didn't. She's one of my best friends. I trust her with her life." Stephanie slipped to the ground and then turned to look at Tank. "But, thanks, for looking out for me." She approached the bonds office and saw Connie through the plate glass window, sitting at her desk, hiding behind her monitor, and Stephanie smiled. Some things never changed. She knew exactly what Connie was doing. As she entered the office, the smell of acetone assaulted her nose.

"What's the color du jour?" Stephanie asked.

"Reddy and Willing," Connie said with a wide grin. She held up her hands to show Stephanie her shiny wet nails. Stephanie remembered her aborted pedicure the night she'd been taken. Her toenails never did get that final coat. "Glad to see you back, safe," Connie continued. "I'd like to give you a hug, but …" She waved her hands and shrugged her shoulders.

"No problem," Stephanie said. "You know what happened?"

"Yeah," Connie said. "Jake came in to pick up some skip papers and he told me everything. I'm glad he did, because when the FBI asshats came in they wouldn't tell me anything." Without jeopardizing her wet nails, she raised her middle finger and pointed it in what Steph thought must be the general direction of the FBI.

"Yeah, they came," she continued. "They wanted to know if you'd made enemies when you were doing bond enforcement. I told them to come back with a subpoena and a big flash drive and I'd download a list for them."

"That's sort of why I'm here," Stephanie said. "I think it was someone in the Mob that took me, but I can't figure out who or why."

"What makes you think it was Family?" Connie asked.

"Where'd you get your stun gun?" Stephanie asked. "Didn't you tell me once it was the brand your uncle uses?"

"Well, yeah, but so do a lot of other people. I got mine from Harry the Hammer. He came in one day when Vinnie was hassling me, and he gave me his stun gun for my protection."

"Harry?" Stephanie questioned. "Well, he's Mob, that's for darn sure. The guys that took me used a stun gun just like yours."

"I'm pretty connected," Connie said. "I haven't heard anything about you. And I'd have heard."

"I know," Stephanie agreed. "I can't think who I've upset. I think it was a woman. And I think it was someone who was upset because I took Ranger away from her. But Ranger says there is no one. I can't figure it out."

"You're sure it was Mob?" Connie asked.

"I just have that feeling. The place they kept me had their stamp on it. And the guys who took me had the look. One of them was named Morty. You don't know any Mortys, do you?"

Connie stilled. "Uh oh."

"Uh oh, what?" Stephanie asked.

"I know a Morty. He does contract work. He's out of Philly and he's mean. He hires out as muscle for anyone who'll pay his fee. I've heard he's done work for the Romanos and the Grizzolis."

"You know him?" Stephanie exclaimed.

"Trenton's a small town. If it's the same guy, he hit on me at Reggie Romano's viewing last month. Geez, was that a snooze fest. All the old Dons, like Reggie, are dying out. I've never seen so many hunched over, wizened mobsters in my life. As for Morty, was he kinda hairy, not too tall, big meaty hands?"

"Yes," Stephanie cried. "Did the FBI agents show you a sketch they made from my description? Was it Morty?"

"They didn't show me anything, Steph. Sorry."

"I bet it's the same guy," Stephanie said. "How many Mortys can there be in Trenton, that are muscle for the Mob?"

"You'd be surprised," Connie snorted.

"And he's worked for Vito Grizzoli? What would the Grizzolis have against me?"

Connie raised a hand and blew on her nails before she tested one gingerly. Satisfied that she wouldn't mar her manicure, she turned to her keyboard. As she typed she looked over at Stephanie and raised an eyebrow. "Gee, what would they have against you? I mean, you and Terry are best friends." Connie rolled her eyes.

"Terry Gilman!" Stephanie was astonished. "It can't be Terry. She doesn't like me, and I really don't like her, but the woman who had me abducted said I caused her to lose her man … and that's not true with Terry. She and Joe were over long before I came on the scene."

"Uh-huh," Connie said noncommittally, as she hit the print button and then swiveled in her chair to grab a piece of paper as it slid into the printer tray. She handed it to Stephanie. "Here—Morty Moricolo's address. I put his address and phone number in the files. I said no that night, but ... you never know. Go take a look and see if this is your guy. But be careful."

"Thanks, Connie." Stephanie grabbed the paper and left the bonds office. She saw Tank watching her intently, which half-irritated her and half-comforted her.

She slid into the SUV and buckled in before she turned to Tank, brandishing the paper. "This may be one of the guys that took me. Morty Moricolo. Ever heard of him?" Tank shook his head. "Okay, well, let's go."

"Go where?" Tank asked.

Stephanie shook the paper in his face. "This is his address. Connie knows him and says he does contract work … for the Grizzolis." She didn't explain further. She didn't know if Tank knew of Terry's history with Joe, and she didn't feel like telling him. She just wanted to put eyes on the guy.

"We're going back to RangeMan," Tank said. "Ranger will be back later this afternoon, and you can discuss that with him. I'm not going on a hunt for a Mob hitman."

Stephanie was impatient to make the ID. She taunted Tank. "What's the problem? Afraid someone will take a shot at you? Afraid you'll get hurt?"

"Fuck, yeah," he muttered. "If I take you and, I know _you're_ not carrying," he dipped his head and looked over his shades at her, "and we find the guy who kidnapped you and something goes wrong, I'm afraid I'll get more than hurt. I'll get dead. Ranger will kill me. And I'm very afraid of that." He turned the SUV toward Haywood, and Stephanie sighed, deeply.


	12. Chapter 12

_AN: We have been unable to answer reviews today through the review response link. Reviews today also aren't showing up on the reviews page for our story. Fanfiction must be experiencing a glitch. We hope it resolves itself quickly. In light of this, we have been PMing readers with our responses to comments, and sincerely hope we haven't missed anyone. If so, please know that it was accidental, and we love (live for ... lol) your reviews._

 **Chapter 12: Someone Was Watching**

Ranger was back in town and he knew Tank was with Stephanie. He considered, for a moment, calling and taking Tank's place. There were a couple of things he wanted to check out though, and he knew he could do a more efficient job if he worked solo. He'd keep to his original plan of seeing her late in the afternoon.

He still had connections with the Mob in Trenton. And there were favors still owed him. He could visit some old "friends" and ask for information, but he chose what turned out to be a simpler and very effective method. He made a visit to Plum Bail Bonds and spent some time with Vincent Plum.

Vinnie was a good bail bondsman. He kept a close eye on Trenton's underworld and it helped him in his business. He was also the son-in-law of a prominent member of one of Trenton's Mob families. Ranger asked Vinnie some pointed questions and quickly confirmed everything he'd been told about the local crime families. The one difference, though, was that the Grizzoli family was gaining power, not losing it, and the person behind that power was Terry Gilman, not her uncle Vito. The same Terry Gilman who had a history with Joe Morelli and Stephanie Plum. He wondered if the FBI agents investigating Stephanie's abduction had made the connection. He doubted it.

He left Vinnie's office and went to the Trenton Free Public Library. It was hard to factor in the effect of adrenaline, but he estimated that the place where Stephanie had been held was fairly close to the library. He systematically began walking the blocks around the library, remembering the meager description Stephanie had given.

...

Mañoso was close. So close she held her breath for a moment. If they were kids playing hide and seek she'd say he was hot, very hot. She laughed out loud. They were far from children, but yes, he was very hot.

She had made an error in judgment. Maybe taking her revenge out on Stephanie had not been the smartest move. She hadn't counted on Carlos Mañoso. She'd have to take a step back and recalculate. This wasn't over. She was going to have Stephanie Plum where she wanted her no matter what she had to do, and she was going to enjoy every bit of the process this time. That bitch would pay. One way or the other.

Watching him get closer and closer gave her an idea. Maybe she'd go after the infamous Ranger. She'd have double the fun, and if she worked things out carefully, she'd still destroy that Plum bitch.

But not if Mañoso discovered the basement. He was only a storefront away and carefully making his way down the block. Would Stephanie have been able to describe it so that he would recognize it? That idiot Morty and his cousin Jimmy had not been careful enough with their captive. They'd paid the price, though.

She pulled her weapon from her Michael Kors and lifted the window. He was a half-block away and she didn't have a good angle, but she couldn't let him find her special place. She had plans to use it again in the very near future. It wouldn't be traceable back to her; she'd covered her tracks well. But she didn't want or need the extra attention her little space would be getting if Mañoso found it. She didn't have to kill him. Even scaring him off would be good enough for the time being. She raised her weapon.

But then she saw him stop and take his phone out. He was either making a call or taking one. She couldn't tell from her limited vantage point. He talked for a moment before he disconnected and turned to walk back the way he'd come. She breathed out a big sigh, and started to seriously reconsider her plan.

...

The Bat Cave. He smiled as he remembered the first time Stephanie had called him Batman. He was far from a superhero, but it amused him that she thought of him that way. The house in front of him bore little resemblance to the mythical Bat Cave, but maybe a little to the stately Wayne Manor. And they would be getting married here, soon. He needed to apprise Ella of that fact. She'd only have three days' notice, because he was going to do as Stephanie asked. He'd get the license as soon as her captors were caught. He opened the door and stepped inside.

The fresh flowers that had been placed to welcome his fiancé weren't so fresh any longer. His eyes lingered on the table against the far wall. Next to the dried and drooping flower bouquet was the huge box of chocolates he'd come to retrieve. He imagined Ella had left them when she'd taken care of the dinner that was never served. There was no sense letting them go to waste. He'd enjoy watching Stephanie devour them as much as she'd enjoy actually eating them. He left the house with renewed determination to bring Stephanie's captors to justice.

Ranger entered his apartment and paused, not sure what he was smelling, but fairly certain the odor was not toxic. He walked slowly toward the kitchen and the sound of Stephanie muttering. She'd called to find out when he'd be back. He should have guessed she was up to something.

"Babe?"

She stood in front of the stove, eyes fixed on a pan that was no longer non-stick. He wasn't sure what the congealed mess in the bottom was, but he thought the recommended cooking time had been exceeded.

"I wanted some comfort food," she said. "I came home and decided to cook us a meal, but something went wrong." She shrugged and turned her palms outward in an _I have no idea what_ gesture. He knew from previous experience, tears were imminent. "I thought we could have dinner and talk," she continued despondently, staring at the burned mess in front of her.

"I think talking over a meal is a good idea," Ranger agreed. He walked to her and leaned past her to turn the burner off before he took her in his arms. "Why don't we go to Shorty's? His pizza is pretty comforting."

She nuzzled into him, and he tightened his embrace. "That would be nice," she said, her words muffled by the proximity of her mouth to his chest. "I have a good lead on Morty, but Tank didn't think I should follow it up without you."

"Tank usually knows best. I've got things to tell you, too, and I want to hear about your lead." He left the kitchen for a moment and retrieved the box of chocolates he'd set on the table in the foyer. Returning to the kitchen, he opened the lid and picked out a plump-looking dark chocolate truffle. Stephanie's eyes widened to the point he knew she'd forgotten her attempted dinner mess. He held the candy to her mouth. "Here, Babe, have an appetizer before we get pizza."

A short time later, they were in a booth at the back of Shorty's. They were sitting side-by-side, with Ranger on the outside edge. That way they both had eyes on the entire place, but he was the one with quick access out of the booth should something go wrong. Shorty's had a varied clientele, and he recognized more than one affiliate of Trenton's crime families. He supposed it was possible that Stephanie's attackers might frequent this place. It would be a lucky break if Morty, the one she'd seen, strolled in.

"Tell me what your lead is, Babe."

"Connie knows a Morty," she said. "We don't know for sure if it is the same guy or not, but it's sounding like it might be. She gave me his address. I need to go over and put eyes on him. If it's the same guy, then we can find out who he is working for."

"That seems like a reasonable assumption," Ranger said.

"It does," Stephanie agreed, her eyes brightening as the waitress walked toward their table with a large loaded pie. She waited until the waitress was gone and she had a piece of pizza in front of her before she continued. "Connie says this particular Morty does contract work, most recently for the Grizzolis. If that's who he was working for, then we have to confront Terry Gilman. I have a hard time thinking it was her that had me taken though."

"We'll check him out and if it pans out, then we can talk to Terry Gilman. I talked to one of the heads of a New York crime syndicate while I was in the City looking for Joyce Barnhardt. The head of the family was a guy named Sal DeCarlo," Ranger said. "He told me something that struck a chord. Vito Grizzoli is an old man, whose business should be shrinking. I did some checking, and the Grizzoli family is getting stronger, more active, in Trenton. Vito seems to be the head of the family in name only. Terry is quietly taking charge, but keeping her uncle as the figurehead."

Stephanie snorted. "I've known Terry since high school. She's never done anything quietly."

"She's doing this quietly," Ranger said. "It may be the twenty-first century, but it's still not acceptable for a woman to run a crime family. That's why she wants it to appear that Vito is still in charge. Which brings to mind another story of a Don whose power is waning." He told her about Joyce, about the headdress of peacock feathers and about the elderly Don with the powdered wig and sword. He watched her relax and laugh at Joyce's expense, and silently renewed his vow to catch those responsible for her kidnapping. He wanted revenge for the pain and fear the scum had put her through. They needed to move beyond this and get on with their lives.

"Tomorrow morning," he told her, "we'll go and visit Morty. If it looks like Terry is involved, then I think we should talk to Morelli, to see what light he can shine on this."

"It's a plan," Stephanie said, reaching for another slice of pizza. "We'll take this new information, sleep on it, and act on it tomorrow."

"It's a plan, Babe," he agreed, his fingers stroking her arm, "although information is not what I had planned to sleep on tonight."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: Dead Men Tell No Tales**

"Tell me again, Babe, how you escaped," Ranger asked as he drove toward Hamilton Township and the address that Connie had given Steph for Morty Moricolo. The sun was just rising; they wanted to find Morty before he began his workday.

"Well, the room had very little loose stuff or really anything that could be used as a weapon, but there was one old rickety wooden chair. Let me tell you, they made them really good in the old days. It took me a long time and a million splinters," she held up her right hand to show him the splinters still working their way out of her skin, "before I got one leg separated. It came away with the brace piece attached."

"Let me see your hand," Ranger said. He looked closely at her palm and then said, "Please let Bobby take care of these splinters. They could get infected." Steph pulled her hand away. "I'm serious, Babe. I'm going to ask Bobby to take a look at them." Steph rolled her eyes, but she wisely didn't say anything.

"So, you had a makeshift club," Ranger prompted.

Steph nodded. "I didn't know if I could do it, if I could hit him hard enough. You know, in cold blood. But I wasn't about to let them chain me up again. I picked Ski Mask Man because, even though he always carried a stun gun, he left the door open when he brought me breakfast." She ducked her head, remembering the other reason she'd decided not to try to escape from her other captor.

"I pretended to be sick and when he got close enough, I hit him. Then I took his stun gun and hit him with that. And then," Steph paused, "I took his shoes because my feet were freezing. I was so scared I just ran; I ran up the stairs and down the street. I kept running until I came to the library."

"What aren't you telling me?" Ranger asked.

"It's nothing."

"No secrets, Babe," he said, pulling her hand to his lips and touching his tongue to the many splinters still embedded in her skin.

Steph hemmed and hawed before she finally came clean. "I told you I was scared of being chained up again. Well, there was another reason I was scared. I stood up to him at the time, but one of my captors, Morty, not only threatened me with death, he threatened to ... rape me, dead or alive."

It was a full minute before Ranger spoke and when he did, it wasn't what Stephanie was expecting. "When we get to this address, you're going to stay in the car."

"Ranger, we agreed to do this together. And that means confronting Morty together."

"You can confront him after I've ... talked to him," Ranger said between clenched teeth.

"Will he still be able to answer my questions after you've ... talked to him?" she inquired, a definite note of doubt in her voice.

"I need just a few minutes alone with him, Babe."

"No," Steph said. "I let you confront Joyce alone because you were afraid I might try to kill her. And you were right. We are both going to see Morty. I'm serious about this, Ranger. I'm not about to let you do something that could jeopardize our soon-to-be-married life. I don't plan on visiting you in prison."

He didn't say anything.

"We do this together," Steph insisted. "Promise?" She got a barely perceptible dip of his head in response.

The address Connie had provided was an apartment building, nothing fancy. Morty had a ground floor corner apartment.

As they approached his door, Ranger whispered, "Stay off to the side so if he looks out the peephole, he doesn't see you." Steph nodded.

Ranger used his knuckles to give the door a sharp rap. They both stood silent, listening for movement inside. It sounded like the television was on low. Twenty seconds later, Ranger knocked on the door again. There was no response. He gave it another twenty seconds before he pounded his fist against the door and shouted, "Morty. Morty Moricolo." There was still no response, and they couldn't hear any sounds other than the TV coming from the apartment. Ranger reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a set of small tools.

"Don't," Steph hissed. "That's breaking and entering."

Ranger crouched in front of the door, and ten seconds later he stood and slowly opened the door, shouting, "Morty?" The drone of the TV got a little louder as the door creaked fully open. That's when they saw him.

"That's him. That's Morty," Stephanie whispered. He was sitting in a recliner in the living room, staring at the TV, but only his side profile was visible from the open doorway.

Stephanie started to enter the apartment, but Ranger held her back. "We're not going in, Stephanie," he said in a hushed tone.

"Why not?" she asked.

"We don't want to contaminate the crime scene," Ranger informed her.

"What crime scene?" she asked, looking away from Ranger and into the apartment. "Morty," she said, her voice loud and clear. "Get your perverted ass over here."

"Babe, he can't hear you."

Steph peered in and looked closely. It was then she saw the trickle of blood on Morty's forehead, right under the small round hole. She looked toward the back of his head and immediately turned into Ranger's shoulder. She struggled not to be sick.

Suddenly, she popped her head up and stared at Ranger, eyes opened wide, along with her open mouth.

"No, I didn't," Ranger frowned, replying to her unspoken question. "Seems like Morty displeased his bosses when you escaped."

"That means Ski Mask Man is probably dead, too," she inferred. "No witnesses. Except me."

Ranger closed the door and then called in the dead body. He and Steph waited in the parking lot for the police to arrive. They answered questions for an hour, explaining that they'd found the door open, before Detective Bouchard allowed them to leave.

"Next stop's Joe, huh?" Steph looked over at Ranger. "It feels like I'm going backward, talking to Joe about Terry Gilman again. I don't know how many times I accused him of still seeing her when we were dating. He's not going to take this well."

"I think he'll take it better coming from you than from me," Ranger said. "You know he has a girlfriend, so maybe start with a pleasant conversation about her. You aren't feeling jealous of her, are you?"

Steph blew out a noisy puff of air. "Puh-leeeze," she said. "I stopped being jealous of Joe's girlfriends even before our final breakup. I knew it was over between us. I wasn't mad or jealous, just tired. But Terry hits all my buttons, maybe because she takes me all the way back to high school and what happened between Joe and me then."

"Do you want me to talk to Morelli?" Ranger offered.

She shook her head. "I need to put all that in the past. It's time I grew up," she said, taking a deep breath. "What's important today is finding my kidnapper. And Joe might know something that could help us with that."

She got a lot of stares as she marched down the precinct hallway toward the detective offices. She was a woman on a mission. No one approached or talked to her, but everyone knew who she was there to see. And no one wanted to be Joe Morelli.

Stephanie pushed open the door and strode in until she was standing over Morelli's desk, and hence, over Morelli.

Joe looked up from the folder of reports he'd been reading, a small noise of surprise emanating from his wide-open mouth. "What are you doing here, Stephanie? I thought Mañoso would have you tucked away in a safe house until your kidnapper is arrested."

"I don't have time for that. I need information," she told him.

"You need to talk to Detective Bouchard," he said. "He's in charge of your case."

"I've talked to Bouchard. Now I'm talking to you."

Joe leaned back in his chair and, with a sigh, asked, "What do you want, Cupcake?"

She cringed inwardly at the nickname, but held her tongue. "I hear you're dating someone."

Joe snorted. " _That's_ what you want to talk about? My dating life? Shouldn't you be concentrating on Rambo's dating life? Or maybe setting a wedding date with him?"

Steph narrowed her eyes and thought about a snappy comeback, and then pulled back. She needed Joe's cooperation. "Ranger and I are fine. But, until the person who kidnapped me is caught, I can't think about getting married." She sat down in one of the chairs across from him. "I have a question that may sound odd, but just answer it, okay, Joe?" Steph said, cryptically.

"Okay, shoot," he replied.

"When was the last time you dated Terry?" she asked.

Joe looked shocked at her question, but he jumped out of his chair and shut his office door before answering. "Terry? Why do you want to know that?"

"Just answer the question."

Joe turned his head away from her, but he answered, "A few months ago."

" _What?"_ Steph cried, obviously shocked. "You dated her _after_ we broke up?"

"Yeah, but only for a few months. I guess like you and I finally realized that we weren't going to happen, I realized it was never going to happen between Terry and me."

"So, you broke up with her?" Steph asked.

"You might say that."

"Are you saying that?" she demanded to know. "Was she upset?"

A sheepish grin spread across Joe's face. "You could say that. We fought like cats and dogs. I thought she was going to sic her boys on me. And that was part of the problem. Her Mob connections and me working Vice. Not a match made in heaven."

Steph paused and then asked, "Did my name ever come up in any of your fights?"

"What do you think?" he said, sarcastically. "Yeah, you were a frequent topic of disagreement."

"Why? You and I were done and over with by then."

"Well, you may have been done with me, but ... I wasn't quite ready to call it quits with you."

"Joe..." Steph said, a slight whine in her voice.

"Don't worry. Once you and Rambo got engaged, I threw in the towel."

"But you and Terry fought about me?" she asked again.

"Why do you want to know all this?" Joe queried.

"Please, just answer me, Joe," Steph insisted. "What specifically did you and Terry fight about that concerned me?"

Joe blew out a deep breath. "If you and I had gotten married, we'd have lived the Burg life. You know, a bunch of kids, a house, Bob, the whole nine yards. Terry didn't want any of that, not even Bob."

"So, Terry might blame me for you two breaking up?"

"I don't know about that," Joe said. "You aren't thinking that Terry had anything to do with your abduction, are you? Because that's ridiculous."

"You don't think Terry's capable of something like that?" Steph asked.

Joe shrugged. "Terry can be pretty cold sometimes, but I don't see her wasting her time obsessing over you. After all, I've moved on. I'm seeing someone else now. If Terry were going to go after someone, she'd go after Alison. Alison and I are getting serious. She wants all the same things I do. She's perfect for me, even better than you." He grinned at Steph. "Her job doesn't involve psychos, and she said she'll be more than happy to quit it as soon I knock her up."

Steph rolled her eyes. Once again, she realized she'd made the right choice to dump him. Thank heaven for Ranger.

"Thanks, Joe," she said. "You've been very helpful." She stood up.

"Hey, that's it? No explanation? Aren't you going to tell me what the twenty questions was all about?"

"I just want to put Terry Gilman where she belongs—in the past, with all your other bimbos," she quipped, as she sauntered past Joe and out the door.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: Old Friends (Make the Worst Enemies)**

He was parked about fifty feet back from the door. The tracker she didn't know she was wearing alerted him to her imminent appearance at the Trenton PD exit. He watched as she walked toward him. A man materialized from behind a parked car as she walked by, and Ranger's guts tightened. His hand moved toward his weapon. He heard Stephanie's exclamation of delight, and he watched as her arms went around the man for a quick hug. He relaxed a little. She said something to the man, gave his arm a pat and continued walking toward the SUV.

It was one of the things he loved about her, her complete lack of concern for appearances. She was 180 degrees from Helen Plum, who was completely concerned with appearances. His fiancée had apparently recognized and hugged a homeless man, and had left him with an encouraging word. It was one of the reasons many of his men loved her, too. She didn't judge.

She slid into the passenger seat and smiled a little too sweetly at him. "That was fun … not," she said, shaking her head.

"Morelli wasn't cooperative?" Ranger was listening, but he was also looking. Stephanie looked especially sexy in her tight t-shirt and form-fitting jeans.

"Oh, he was, in his way," she said, looking down at the purse in her lap, searching for her lip gloss. "What he said was a little disconcerting. He said he and Terry used to fight about me. He kind of threw me under the bus. He used me as an excuse to break it off with her."

"Hell hath no fury…" Ranger said. He flashed back on one of the times Stephanie was furious with him. She could be quite arousing when angry.

"True, but he doesn't think Terry had anything to do with my abduction," she said, puckering her mouth and applying a coat of gloss to her lips. "He said he's moved on, and if Terry were upset about it she would have gone after Alison, the new girlfriend. I think I agree with him on that point."

"We still need to talk to Terry," Ranger said, staring at her pouty glistening lips. "And we'll talk to her together."

"Okay, but…" she hesitated, which caused Ranger to focus and give her his full attention. If she was going to tell him she had a feeling, he would listen intently because he had learned to trust her feelings. "I was just thinking," she continued. "We are assuming it's Terry and that she was talking about Joe, but what if it was someone talking about you."

Ranger's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Who are you thinking about? If you are going to say Grace…"

"No! Not Grace! But I thought, maybe, well … Jeanne Ellen Burrows."

Ranger laughed and realized his mistake immediately. He was quiet for a moment, but then he turned to her with a serious expression. "It's not Jeanne Ellen."

"How can you be so sure? I thought..." she paused. "I'd heard rumors that you were once ... involved with her," Steph asked, not really wanting to know.

Ranger suppressed a grin. "If it was Jeanne Ellen, she might have kidnapped me instead."

"What?"

"Jeanne Ellen…" Now it was his turn to hesitate. "Let's just say she bats for both teams." Steph looked over at him, her brows furrowed and a puzzled look on her face. Ranger continued, "She's always been attracted to me, but Babe, you're the one she's had a major crush on for years." Steph's jaw dropped. "I warned her off you. I don't share." He gave a cursory look up and down the street. It was mostly deserted. He knew he was thinking with more than his head as he pulled her across the console toward him. His lips found hers with unerring accuracy.

"I have a crush on you, too," he whispered against her lips. When her lips parted he thrust his tongue past them. His hands were under her shirt, and one of them had penetrated her bra. He felt her nipple pebble between his fingers, and he felt her moan against his lips. He deepened the kiss, and kept his fingers busy. Her body started to tremble and he knew she was close to falling over the edge. She was so responsive to his touch. He pulled her even closer against him.

"Ranger," she said weakly, as she pulled away for air. "Are we going to do it here, in the police parking lot?"

He reluctantly let go of her. "No. Buckle up. We're going home. We can't risk an audience for what I've got planned." He resettled himself in his seat as she moved back across the SUV.

"So, Jeanne Ellen is..." Steph began, but just then, both their phones rang simultaneously.

"Tank," he said, after glancing at the screen.

"I think mine's the FBI," she said.

"Take the call," he told her. He dismissed Tank's call and immediately began to text him. He listened to Stephanie's side of her phone conversation.

"Yes—But I've already told Detective Bouchard everything—Yes, he's with me—Okay—Yes—The RangeMan building—A half-hour will be fine." She disconnected and told him, "They want to see us. I told them RangeMan. They have a few more questions to ask."

"Fine," Ranger said. "Tank has arranged for us to meet Terry Gilman in two hours. At Settimo Cielo, for a late lunch."

"We're meeting her at a restaurant?" Stephanie sounded surprised.

"Where else?" Ranger asked. "People in her line of work don't invite outsiders into their offices. This will be neutral territory for all of us."

The FBI agents were polite but insistent. They made them retell everything they'd told the TPD detective. And then they gave Ranger and Stephanie some news. A body had been fished out of the Delaware River. He'd been ID'd as Jimmy Moricolo, probably a.k.a. Ski Mask Man. He was Morty Moricolo's cousin. They asked her if she thought she could ID him as the Ski Mask Man, but she told them no, she had never seen his face. They didn't press her to view the body. She'd already been to the TPD; she had no desire to visit the Mercer County Morgue.

They dressed up, a little, for their meeting with Terry. Stephanie wore the simple navy sheath she'd purchased for Ranger's parents' anniversary party. Ranger wore a black dress shirt and slacks. She thought it was a little silly to be getting dressed up for Terry Gilman, but they needed to blend in with the clientele at the restaurant. They arrived early, and Ranger had a brief word with the maître d'. They were seated at a table in the back, side-by-side. It was only a few minutes until they saw Terry enter the restaurant. She also had a word with the maître d', and they saw the frown that marred her brow.

Stephanie watched Terry walk toward them. Where had the bosomy brassy blonde that had been two years ahead of her in high school gone? This tall, lean woman bore only a slight resemblance to her, and when had she changed? Stephanie couldn't remember, specifically, when she'd last seen Terry. Her hair was now a silvery blond, with a short precision cut that was close to her skull. She was wearing a pale blue suit that matched her ice blue eyes. Stephanie didn't recognize the designer, but the cut of the suit screamed couture.

Ranger stood as she approached the table. He held out his hand, and Terry shook it briefly and nodded to Stephanie as she sat down.

"I'm somewhat of a regular customer here," she told them. "I hope you don't mind, I've arranged to have the house specialty served to us. My schedule is a little tight today, and I thought it would expedite things. Your man did say it was essential that we talk today, Mr. Mañoso."

Stephanie looked at Ranger. So, that's the way it was going to be. Terry was going to politely ignore her. She didn't think so.

"I was recently kidnapped," Stephanie said. "We wanted to talk to you about it, because the people who took me were working for ... someone else. We don't know who they were working for, but we are hoping you can give us some information about it."

Terry looked at Stephanie with narrowed eyes and, just for a moment, the Burg Bad Girl seeped out. Terry lowered her eyes and took a drink of water, and when she looked up again, the ice princess was back in control. "I've heard about your unfortunate experience, Stephanie, but all my information is second-hand. It seems no matter how far you go you can't escape the Burg grapevine." She gave her shoulders a small shrug.

"We were wondering if you knew the Moricolo cousins?" Ranger asked. "It seems they were responsible for the kidnapping. We've heard they were contract workers, not from Trenton. Do you know who they might have been working for?"

Terry gave Ranger a long assessing look before she answered, and Stephanie wondered just what she was assessing. "I have no idea," Terry said. "I can ask my Uncle Vito for you. He might know. I don't really have anything to do with that side of the business. I manage our more, uhm, legitimate concerns."

"We heard you run all sides of the business," Stephanie said, wincing only slightly when Ranger's foot came down on hers.

Terry's eyes widened in surprise. "You heard incorrectly. The Burg grapevine is known for its quantity of information, but not the quality, unfortunately. There is no fact checker for that particular stream of information. Is this your quaint way of asking me if I was responsible?"

Even though she addressed her question to Stephanie, Terry's eyes never left Ranger. Ranger seemed to be oblivious, Stephanie noted. He was probably so used to women being dazzled by his good looks that he was immune to the stares. But Stephanie wasn't immune. She was irritated.

"Were you responsible?" Stephanie asked.

"I was out of town when your unfortunate incident took place. And I have someone who will corroborate my … absence. You remember Joe, don't you, Stephanie? Joe Morelli, that is." Terry's purse buzzed. "Excuse me," she said, taking her phone from a side pocket of an expensive bag. "I'm expecting an important call."

Designer suit, designer bag. Terry wasn't a cheap slut any longer, Stephanie realized. She was an expensive one. The phone message must have been one she was expecting, because what happened next was smooth and orchestrated. Terry left the table and walked toward the restrooms.

"What was that?" Stephanie asked. "Surely Joe wasn't with her recently. He'd have told me if he was still seeing her."

"I doubt Joe was with her," Ranger said, "and I doubt she was out of town. She's bluffing."

"How do you know?" Stephanie asked.

"Babe, I play poker. I don't think Terry does."

"So, you think Terry could be the one?" Stephanie asked. "What's our next step?"

A waiter approached their table with a bread basket and salads. "We eat lunch," Ranger told her.

"I'm sorry," Terry said as she returned to the table. "I have to go, but please enjoy your lunch on me. The food here is excellent." She pivoted on a leather-soled stiletto and walked down the aisle and out the front door.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: The Disappearance**

After Terry left Ranger and Stephanie at the restaurant, Stephanie had a slew of burning questions she needed answers to. Ranger dropped her off at her parents' house so she could talk to her grandmother and make some calls. Stephanie called it the power of the Burg grapevine. He arranged for someone to pick Steph up when she was ready to return to RangeMan, leaving him time to follow-up on some leads.

Just as he was walking out the door of the Plum household, he received an anonymous call telling him that a waitress at Shorty's knew who had kidnapped Stephanie. The thought that this might be a set-up wasn't lost on Ranger, but he wasn't too worried. He'd known Shorty for years and knew that the restaurant owner would have his back. He knew the layout of the area and felt confident he could spot anything and anyone out of place.

He got into his SUV and was on his way to Shorty's when the car in front of him braked suddenly, forcing him to slam on his brakes. The van behind him didn't stop in time and plowed into the back of his SUV, shoving his vehicle into the stopped car in front of him. The airbag exploded, forming a cloud of white dust around him, and pushing Ranger back against the driver's seat.

He opened the door to let out some of the floating powder. A man approached and Ranger waved him off. "I'm fine," he said. "Go check on the driver in front of me." The man reached toward him and Ranger felt a jolt of electricity surge through him. What the fuck? The man just stunned me, Ranger thought. He tried to raise his arm in defense, but his muscles wouldn't obey. The man zapped him again and held the device to his neck for several seconds. The shock left him temporarily incapacitated. Then there was a prick and a sharp burning pain in the left side of his neck, and things got fuzzy.

Within seconds, he felt like he was floating on a white cloud. There were people around him, talking to him, and he knew he was answering, but nothing seemed to make sense. He knew he was walking, but he couldn't feel his feet. And then someone was helping him lie down, which he really wanted to do. There were wonderful sounds and colors swirling around him and all he wanted to do was look and listen. And then, he didn't remember anything at all.

...

It was late afternoon when Tank got the call from the Trenton police about an abandoned RangeMan vehicle that had been involved in a three-car accident on Olden Street. The only company car not currently in the garage was the SUV Ranger was driving. A call to Ranger revealed that Ranger's phone was no longer turned on. Tank immediately drove to the site and met the police investigating the accident.

After talking to the cops on site, Tank studied the accident scene, taking in the placement of the vehicles that had been involved. It was obvious it was Ranger's SUV that had rear-ended the front car, a blue four-door sedan driven by a middle-aged woman. Witnesses, though, had said a third vehicle, a white panel van, had slammed into Ranger's SUV causing it to rear-end the first car. Tank could see that the SUV's air bag had deployed. Witnesses also said that the third vehicle had left the scene, but not until the van driver, a man, had helped the disoriented SUV driver, also a man, into the back of the van.

Trenton police had interviewed the driver of the sedan and several witnesses, which consisted of three teenagers walking home from school. The woman of the sedan had sworn that a dog had run out into the street, and she had slammed on her brakes to avoid hitting it. None of the teens had seen a dog.

The three teens had said that the SUV, which Tank knew had been driven by Ranger, had braked hard but had been able to stop before hitting the stationary sedan. The white panel van, however, had not been able to stop in time and had struck the SUV from the rear, pushing the SUV into the sedan. The woman in the sedan had been shaken up, but unharmed. She had remained in her vehicle, dazed and upset, and had been unable to provide the police any other details.

According to one of the teens, the man in the van had run forward to the SUV and helped an obviously dazed Ranger out of the SUV and into the back of the van. Then the man had driven away. The entire incident had taken less than three minutes.

Tank had questioned the woman driver and had found her still confused and unclear about what had happened. He also was able to talk to the teens, and thought they had a pretty clear picture of what had happened. They had assumed that the man in the van was helping the disoriented man in the SUV get to the hospital. But no one fitting Ranger's description had been admitted to any of the local ERs. And Ranger's phone was still turned off and untraceable.

Tank leaned back against his vehicle and went back over what he knew. The seemingly innocent accident sounded like a well-known ploy frequently used by criminals for car insurance extortion. Ranger wouldn't have fallen for it. Who got to him, and how and why did they do it? He must have been incapacitated, either from the accident, or from something that was done to him afterwards. That was the how, now he had to figure out the why and the who. And he had to talk to Stephanie, ASAP.

Bottom line: Ranger was MIA.

...

She was dressed to kill, and she would kill if Ranger had been harmed. She wore RangeMan black with a full utility belt. Her hair was tied back out of the way, her stun gun had a full charge and her bullets were in her gun.

Tank had given her the devastating news. He assumed, and she was certain, that Ranger's disappearance was related to her recent kidnapping. She'd been careful recently, not leaving RangeMan without an escort, but that time was over. Her two captors were dead, and if Terry didn't actually pull the trigger, she'd given the order. Stephanie felt sure of it, but she had no proof.

She didn't tell Tank, and she didn't think he knew, because he was busy setting some plan of his own in to action. She simply picked out a fleet vehicle and drove out of the parking garage. She knew someone in the control room was tracking her, but maybe they didn't realize she didn't have an escort. She didn't need one. She was going to the Trenton Free Public Library.

She pulled the SUV into the library parking lot and got out quickly, beeping the door locks as she strode out of the lot and headed east. She would be methodical. She would be observant, and she would do what the FBI had been unable to do. She would find the place where they'd held her, where they were holding Ranger.

She walked quickly and with purpose. She went six blocks due east and then turned north. She would walk the area, block by block. Eventually she would find her prison. All she had to do was find steps to an outside basement entrance. She'd been looking for an hour, street after street, and the light was starting to go. Her hand went to her waist and fingered the mag light on her utility belt. Darkness wouldn't stop her. It might become her friend.

Suddenly, she felt something, maybe her spidey sense, if there was such a thing. The area looked familiar. She stopped and looked up and down the side streets. Those streets were a wash, as there were no entrances to anything, underground or above. She was walking alongside a warehouse that encompassed the entire block. There was a janitorial supply store across the street. Wide steps led up to double doors over which hung a sign that read "Long's Janitorial Supply." It was the only business she could see and there was a light on in the upstairs room. It must be open, despite the late hour. It was after six, past closing time for most businesses. That made the place worth a closer look. She walked across the street and onto a small patch of grass between the curb and the sidewalk. Her CAT boot connected with a loose piece of concrete and it skittered across the sidewalk and disappeared, and Stephanie Plum froze.

The memory of her bare foot scraping on rough pot-holed concrete came rushing back, even as she saw the stairs tucked under the stoop of the upstairs entrance. Her hand went to her gun. She'd found it! She made her way down the steps, noting several pieces of broken concrete.

The door was steel with multiple locks and it was set in a windowless wall. She didn't want to knock and give herself away. She turned and went up the steps and then up the second flight. The knob turned easily in her hand, and she stepped into the janitorial supply store.

A man in gray coveralls sat at a beat-up government-issue desk, looking at a centerfold in what might have been an old issue of Playboy. He had a greasy blond ponytail hanging down his back, and he had the stub of a cigar dangling from his lips. He looked up at Stephanie and his eyes took her in from head to toe and all points in between.

"Can I help youse, sweetheart?" he asked. Stephanie's heart thudded so loudly she thought he must hear it. _Youse_. Her abductors had said _youse_. This guy didn't seem to recognize her, though.

"I, uh, I don't think so," she said, glancing around the office. Her eyes fixed on a floor vent situated in front of the desk. "I thought this was a plumbing supply store. I can see I was wrong."

"Yeah, youse are. We're janitorial, and we're wholesale. We don't sell to the public."

"S-sorry," she stammered. She turned and left the building and took a good look at where she was. Then she ran, as fast as she could.

 _AN: Regarding the effects of stun guns, it is a common misperception that a stun gun typically knocks a person unconscious. The author of the Plum series perpetuates this inaccuracy in her novels, and many of us fanfiction writers have continued that mistake. We have been guilty of that earlier in this story, and for that, we apologize. Research shows there is considerable variability both in the voltage of different brands of stun guns and in the physiological reactions of people. Some individuals will simply jerk away from the painful charge, while others will be temporarily incapacitated; it is extremely rare for someone to lose consciousness. The voltage amount, duration of the charge and the unique response of the person being stunned will determine the end effect. The stun guns used in this story are of high quality and extremely high voltages, rendering the victim temporarily incapacitated. And in Ranger's case, stunning him was only a means to allow him to be drugged._


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: Without A Trace**

Stephanie sat in the SUV for a few minutes. Her doors were locked and she was parked a distance from the nearest car, and under a halogen light, so she felt safe in the waning daylight. She sat and tried to figure out her next move. It came to her suddenly and she acted without further consideration. She pulled the SUV out of the library parking lot and headed to Slater Street. She needed the speedy cooperation of the TPD, and she knew of no better way to ensure it than to have Joe Morelli pull some strings.

She knocked on a door she no longer had a key to and heard the familiar and comforting sound of Bob's greeting. Morelli opened the door and showed mild surprise as he stepped back to let her in.

"I didn't think you were doing bond enforcement any longer," he said, motioning to the utility belt around her hips. "You must be seriously after someone."

"I'm not doing bond enforcement," she told him. "And I'm seriously in need of your help." She bent to hug Bob who was excited to see her.

They sat on his sofa as they had done so many times before, and she told him about Ranger's disappearance.

"Who's on the case?" Joe asked her.

"I have no idea. Tank is dealing with the police, but I think it's connected to my abduction, and tonight, I found the place where they held me. I'm sure Ranger's there. I need your help. We've got to get him out of there."

"Call Bouchard," Joe said. "He's running your case."

"I know he is," Stephanie said. "But what I don't want is some big SWAT operation coming in and blowing the door off, and then us finding Ranger inside, dead. I can't get into the place without shooting off the locks and alerting whoever is downstairs. I thought maybe you could … help."

Joe sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, and Stephanie distractedly noticed he was in more need of a haircut than usual. It had been a while since she'd been at his place, but it felt normal. Almost like walking into her own home. He'd been such a part of her life for so long, she thought he'd help her, and she wasn't wrong.

"Let me call Bouchard. We'll try to go through the guy upstairs. I know the area you're talking about. Long's Janitorial Supply has been the subject of investigations before. During my old man's time it was a front for the numbers game. Recently, it was linked to a neighborhood protection racket."

"Thanks, Joe." Stephanie stood. "Let's go."

"Hold on, Cupcake. You asked for my help. I'll help, but you have to stay out of it."

"But …"

"But nothing, Stephanie. You can come along, but you stay in the car until the room is open and Ranger is out. Understand?"

"Yes," she said. And this time she meant what she said. She would stay back and let them do their job. She wouldn't compromise Ranger's safety.

It was all so anti-climactic. The two detectives, Morelli and Bouchard, disappeared into the janitorial supply store, which was still open even though it was now approaching eight o'clock in the evening. She was sitting in Morelli's truck, half a block down the street when the two men came out of the store along with the guy in the coveralls Stephanie had seen earlier. They disappeared under the stoop, the three of them together. The guy was going to let them into the basement! She wanted to jump out and run to the stairs, but she'd promised Joe she wouldn't, so she stayed put.

The headlights of an approaching vehicle momentarily obliterated her view of the storefront. The car drove past the janitorial supply building and parked, illegally, on the street across from her. It was a dark, nondescript sedan and even without being able to see inside clearly she knew who'd be getting out. Someone had called in reinforcements and now the FBI was on the scene.

Her attention, which had been momentarily diverted, went back to the storefront as she saw Joe emerge from the stairs. The streetlights in this block weren't halogen, and there were dark shadowy areas, but she could see well enough to see Joe was alone. He motioned to her. The FBI must have thought he was motioning to them and as she opened the door and slid out, Jason Black emerged from the car across the street. He was working solo tonight, it seemed. Joe reached Stephanie's side and took her arm, and without saying anything, began to move her toward the building.

"Joe?" She hated the wavering weak sound of her voice.

"The room is empty, Cupcake. No sign of Ranger, or that he's been there."

Her heart broke into tiny pieces and, abruptly, she stopped walking. Jason Black came up on the other side of her. "Ms. Plum, are you okay?"

Joe's arm went around her. "No, she's not," he told Black. "Go on ahead, we'll be there in a moment." When Black walked ahead of them, Joe leaned in and spoke quietly to Stephanie. "Bouchard wants you to look at the room, Steph, to have you positively ID that it is the place where you were held."

"Okay," she said, "But Ranger…"

"He's not here," Joe told her again. Her disappointment was almost paralyzing. She'd been so sure, and now what? Where did she go now? She moved forward with Joe's gentle urging.

Bouchard was standing in the doorway. "We need you to ID this place. Come take a look and tell us if it's where you were kept."

She stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked inside. A feeling of nausea came over her as she saw the dimly lit room and the ancient sofa. She looked at the toilet and saw the small stack of wrappers she'd saved to use as toilet paper still waiting on the floor. She saw the metal rings on the wall where she'd been chained. She turned and ran back up the stairs to the sidewalk where she bent over and vomited. Tears blurred her vision as she turned toward the wall of the building, and waited for the overwhelming nausea to subside.

She felt a hand on her back and a handkerchief was slipped into her hand. "You okay, Cupcake?" She nodded and put her hands over her face.

"I'm taking that as a positive ID that it is the place you were held?" Bouchard's voice came from behind her, and she pulled away from Joe's arms to answer him.

"Yes, it is. The chair that's broken ... it's the chair that I dismantled and used to hit Ski Mask Man. And the trash, by the toilet, I put it there to …" she let her voice trail off. But she took a deep breath and tried to focus. "Yes, I'm sure it's the place I was kept."

"We'll get someone on this right away," Jason Black said. He seemed kinder tonight, Stephanie thought. Now that he'd seen where she'd been held, it was as though he finally got it. She was the victim.

"I don't think we need anything else from you tonight," Detective Bouchard said. "You need a ride somewhere?"

"I've got her," Morelli told the other detective. "Her vehicle is at my place. I'll get her back there."

They rode in silence, until Morelli pulled up behind the RangeMan SUV still parked in his driveway. "You okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah," Stephanie said, but she was lying. She was trembling so hard her voice was shaky. "It's just ... I thought Ranger would be there, and when he wasn't … Now I have no idea where he might be. Or if he's safe. And then I saw the room and it sort of hit me, that I'm lucky to be out of there and …"

Joe leaned over and gave her a hug. "Spend the night with me, Cupcake. This isn't a time to be alone."

"What?"

"Spend the night with me. I can help you forget about that room. I can give you something to remember other than your prison."

She was astonished, but she shouldn't have been. Joe had been kind and comforting, and she'd almost forgotten he was motivated by his own desires, always.

"What would your new friend, Alison, think about that?" Stephanie asked.

"She's away on a business trip. She won't be back until day after tomorrow." He let his fingers stroke her arm. "It's not as if sleeping with you is cheating, Cupcake. We have a history."

Steph leaned back against the door and stared at him, unbelieving, for the longest time before saying, "Some things never change, do they, Joe?" She opened the passenger door and slipped out. "Back your truck off the drive, and I'll get my SUV out of the way. I'm going home. Thanks for the help, but no thanks to the offer."

Joe shrugged and put his truck in reverse. She should be offended at the ease with which he gave up, but in truth, she was relieved. She wasn't emotionally strong enough to deal with Joe tonight. She was struggling with the fact that Ranger was still missing, and she had no idea where he was.

She got into the SUV and made her way to RangeMan where she'd have to deal with a pissed off Tank on five and an empty bed on seven. She had to let Tank know what had happened tonight, to let him know everything she knew and everything she suspected.

And what exactly did she suspect? She'd been careful not to mention Terry to Joe, because they had no solid proof it had been her. She'd needed Joe's help and she hadn't wanted to antagonize him by accusing his ex-lover. And maybe it wasn't Terry, because—why would Terry take Ranger? And how could Terry take Ranger? Could there be someone else out there? She'd heard all the statistics. Victims usually knew their attackers. Who did she know that would do this to her? To Ranger?


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: Chained**

Waking up was almost painful, not in a physical sense, but emotionally, because he wanted to stay in that dreamlike state forever. The vibrant, swirling colors that kept shifting overhead morphed offensively into a glaring, stark white light, and the music that had once been soothing and uplifting was now just irritating. And his head felt like it was being used for drumming practice by the ghost of Buddy Rich.

"Well, well, well. The Dark Knight awakens. How was your trip?" a woman's voice spoke from somewhere in the room, and then she laughed, a harsh, unpleasant sound.

Ranger lifted his head, trying to see who was speaking, but found his body movements were restricted. His wrists were handcuffed above his head, to a brass headboard. He looked down at his body and realized he was naked, though he was covered with a white sheet. He couldn't move his legs, but he could feel something tied around his ankles. He groaned as the reality of his situation hit him.

And then she came into view, and he groaned again. Of course it was her. His mind was still fuzzy, and he couldn't remember her name, but he knew who she was, and he knew he was in trouble.

The woman before him was slender, with short hair framing a narrow pinched face. Some might call her pretty, but he thought she looked like a cold, bitter woman, older than her actual years. Her eyes were blue, but not the deep blue he was used to, nor were they the blue eyes he desired. Her eyes were pale, like her skin, and the platinum blonde hair made her look washed out.

The woman carried a hypodermic needle in her right hand. "Are you ready for another trip?" she taunted, holding the syringe upright and flicking it with her left index finger. "You really seemed to get off on the first one."

"What izzz that ... ssssshit?" Ranger slurred, his voice hoarse. He found it difficult to form words.

The woman answered, "Special K, or more specifically, Ketaject. It's an anesthetic that also has a hallucinogenic effect. I find it to be quite enjoyable after a long day of dealing with business. My softer side comes out and I like to cuddle when I'm on ketamine. Do you feel like cuddling, Mañoso? Shall we see how you do with a second dose? Or maybe it'd be better to keep you knocked out? I have a full bottle of Nitrazepam." She reached into her pants pocket and showed him a prescription bottle for the powerful sleeping pills.

He shook his head, not wanting any more drugs to keep his mind clouded. He wanted clarity. Talking was difficult so instead of answering, he glanced around the room, taking in everything he saw. His mind was slowly clearing, and he knew he needed to find a way to get out of there and do it quickly.

"Come on now, Mañoso. We can't have you too alert. I don't trust you. No matter how strong those handcuffs are, you probably have some secret way of getting out of them if I leave you alone too long. So, be a good boy and take these pills."

She walked over to the bed he was lying on, and, after laying the syringe on the nightstand, she picked up a bottle of water and poured a small amount into a paper cup. She tapped out two small white pills from the prescription bottle, and then glancing at the man lying in bed, tapped out three more pills. When she held them to his lips, he tried to bite her hand. Without giving it a second thought, she slapped him hard with her empty hand.

"Have it your way, you arrogant prick," she snapped, grabbing the syringe and plunging the needle into his upper arm. Ranger's head fell back on the pillow and his eyes rolled back into his head. She was able to push the pills into his mouth and get him to drink some water. She checked to see that he swallowed and then turned to leave, but stopped.

He was conscious, but not aware of his surroundings. With a slow grin, she lifted the sheet. Her grin grew wider. "Impressive. I see the rumors are true, Mañoso. I may have to take you out for a test drive," she quipped, chortling at the thought. "I think I have an offer you can't refuse." She tapped the empty syringe. Her laughter followed her out of the room.

...

"I don't see what you're so upset about. I made progress. I found the place where they were keeping me. I can't believe Ranger wasn't there." Stephanie moved in front of Ranger's desk and faced the angry man standing behind it.

Tank looked long and hard at Stephanie. He weighed his words and then thought, _What the hell. She's dressed like a RangeMan operative, I'm gonna treat her like a RangeMan operative._

"When this is over, and Ranger's back in the chair behind this desk, running this business, I'm gonna take you to the mats and show you just how skewed your thinking is." He wiped a big hand over his brow and crumpled his massive body in his boss's chair. He'd been in Ranger's office looking for anything that Ranger had been working on that might lend a clue to what had happened, when she'd sashayed in, full of swagger.

He knew Stephanie had taken off on her own. The monitoring crew had seen her leave, and by process of elimination, he'd figured out she'd taken no one with her. He'd been worried about her, which was probably why he was so pissed off now. But the fact was he hadn't had time to go hunt for her. His obligation was to find the missing person he knew was in trouble, not the person who might be getting into trouble. Being in charge meant prioritizing, and it sucked.

He sighed. "What did you find out, exactly? You found the place where you were held and presumably that will help with the investigation of your abduction. But did you come up with anything on Ranger's whereabouts?" Some of the swagger went out of her at his question and he saw her attitude for what it was, a defense against his anger. "Sit down, Stephanie. Let's talk this out."

She plopped into the chair and grimaced as her utility belt cut into her. She stood and unhooked the belt before sitting once again. "I know I was taking a risk," she said. "I tried to be as careful as I could, but I had this overwhelming need to do something. To find Ranger."

"I get that," Tank said. "But no one in this organization goes off alone, save Ranger, occasionally. And I get pissed at him, too, when he does that. You know all this, and it looks as though you went as prepared as you could. So, tell me what you think you accomplished."

She told him of her abbreviated conversation with the guy in the janitorial supply store. "I was sure we'd find Ranger, but when he wasn't there I began to have doubts. Maybe this is unrelated to what happened to me."

"Maybe," Tank said. "But unlikely. What's more likely is that they have Ranger stashed in another location."

"Then why can't we just stake out that janitorial supply store? Follow who comes and goes?" she asked. He saw her brighten at her idea.

"It's already being done," he told her. "We knew the minute Morelli called in Bouchard, and we've been watching ever since. I was hoping you might have another thought. I don't want to upset you any further, but I think time is of the essence here, and staking out Long's Janitorial Supply will likely be effective, but not quick."

She took a deep breath. "I think it's Terry Gilman." She told Tank about the lunch she and Ranger had had with Terry. "Terry and I have a history, but I thought it was ancient history. I guess not. I don't know why she would go after Ranger, but I think maybe she did. There was something about the way she was looking at Ranger during our lunch. She was … speculative. I got the impression she was wondering …" Stephanie blushed. It was one thing to listen to Connie or Lula go on about how hot Ranger was, but it was another thing entirely to say it to Tank.

"I get it," Tank said, easing her discomfort. "We'll take a good look at Terry, but there's not much more that can be accomplished tonight. I have something else to talk to you about."

Stephanie looked at him in surprise. What could be more important than finding Ranger?

"You're engaged to the CEO of RangeMan," Tank began. "What do you think would happen to RangeMan if Ranger dies?"

Stephanie eyes widened, and she swallowed the bile that had jumped into her throat at Tank's words. "Who do you think would be in charge after Ranger's gone?" he asked.

"I, uh, you," she said.

"Wrong," he replied. "You. Ranger told me recently that he was going to alter his will to give you the controlling share in the event of his death. He asked me how I felt about that. I told him I'd had a hard enough time molding him into the boss, and it'd probably kill me if I had to do the same with you … but that I'd give it my best shot."

"Tank! Why are you telling me this? Ranger's never said … I mean, I don't think …"

He could see that his statement had confused her so he went on. "I don't think Ranger's dead. I think we'll get him back and we'll get whoever did this to him. I'm telling you that you are important, to RangeMan and to me personally, and you can no longer run off to save the day on your own."

He motioned to her utility belt lying on the floor next to the chair. "No matter how well prepared you think you are, you still need backup. Always. I know you can do the job. No other operative would have done better or as well as you in protecting Grace. I'm not impugning your skill set. I'm just saying you need backup … always."

Stephanie met his gaze and then shrugged slightly. "I have no defense. You're right. I won't do it again."

"Good. Now go upstairs and get a good night's sleep, if you can. We'll start in again in the morning. And when this is over, I'm still taking you to the mats. You should be afraid."

He watched her go. Her shoulders were square and she was trying hard to be brave, but he knew she was fragile. She needed to find Ranger … and so did he. He walked down the hall to his own office and started once again to review the details of the accident, hoping some new clue would magically spring forth.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: Clue**

Time had no meaning for him as he lay in bed, wrapped in a tranquilized fog. He didn't think he'd been here very long, but he couldn't be sure. He was slowly coming out of the haze he'd been in, but he still felt weak and disoriented. And he had to urinate. That was the one real sensation he could count on.

He tried to move his arms, but they were still handcuffed to the brass headboard. In frustration, he struggled and thrashed, but only succeeded in dislodging the sheet that covered him. He wasn't cold; the room was warm, uncomfortably so. He didn't know which was worse: the long slow sedation where he was fuzzily aware of his surroundings, or the brief but all-consuming hallucinogenic trips where he was totally out of it.

He looked around at the room he was in. It looked like a typical bedroom with the usual furniture. He knew one door led out to the rest of the house or apartment, and the other two doors led to a bathroom and a closet. There were two curtained windows that let in light, so he knew when it was night or day, but his mind was so fuzzy, he didn't know what time it was. It was dark outside, so he knew it was nighttime, but he had no idea if it was evening or early morning.

She had come in periodically and given him more drugs, so he was never able to clear his head and think. He knew he was coming out of a deep period of sedation, so he expected her to arrive at any moment to renew his dose. He tried to think of a way to escape or avoid taking the drugs, but when he didn't swallow the pills she insisted he take, she'd inject him with ketamine so that he was too far gone to refuse to do anything she demanded of him.

The door opened and in she walked. She always grinned at him when she saw him, and this time, her smile was extra broad. She was staring at his naked body. He had an intense urge to wrap his hands around her scrawny neck and squeeze until her eyes popped out of her head.

"I have to piss," he told her. He rattled the handcuffs against the headboard. "Unless you want to humiliate me further by making me lie in my own filth."

She chuckled. "I think I can help you with your little problem." She disappeared into the bathroom and came out with a plastic wastebasket. The sheet was draped loosely over one hip, so she pulled it all the way down and slipped the container between his legs.

"That's it?" he complained. "How about releasing one of my hands." Again, he rattled the handcuffs that chained him to the bed.

"I'm not a fool, Mañoso," she replied. "You may be sedated, but you're still a formidable opponent. Now, piss or get off the pot," she snorted. He finally relented and pissed. She took the wastebasket into the bathroom and flushed the contents down the toilet. When she came back, she had a bottle of water and a bottle of a popular protein drink. "Time to refuel the body."

"You're a fool if you think I'd willingly take anything from your hands," he said.

She shook both bottles. "You are so untrusting. These are unopened." She cracked open the water bottle. "See?" She offered Ranger a sip. He stared at her for a minute before accepting the water. He drained the bottle quickly. She opened the protein drink bottle and held it to his lips. He shook his head, refusing to drink. "Have it your way." She recapped the bottle and set it on the nightstand.

"Why are you bothering to give me food and drink? You're just planning on killing me anyway," he said.

She nodded. "That's true, but I want you alive until I can get that bitch of a girlfriend of yours here. Then she will watch me kill you, knowing that she's next. Do you want to hear my plan? It's quite ingenious."

Ranger simply glared at her.

"The plan is to call Stephanie and send a picture of you like this." She let her hand glide along his exposed thigh. "Using a burner phone, of course. Knowing that you are at my mercy will drive her crazy."

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"Why?" she repeated. "Because that bumbling bimbo kept interfering in my life. She set her sights on my man way back in high school. Joe and I were tight, and she seduced him just to try and break us up." She clenched her teeth and muttered, "I should have killed her back then." Her pale eyes darkened and the right side of her lip curled up into a sneer. "She wouldn't have been my first," she said, giggling uncontrollably.

Her odd demeanor and damning words had Ranger reassessing his captor. This psycho bitch is certifiably crazy, he thought. Her laugh turned shrill and then just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped and she was sneering again.

"Stephanie's feeble attempts to get Joe didn't work then, but ... the bitch tried again, when Joe was arrested for that ridiculous murder charge. That time she did get her nasty hooks in him, and nothing has ever been the same since." She let her hand trail over his abs and down his hip. She stared at his crotch as she licked her lips. "Joe's easily distracted by sex, and that bitch kept shaking her tits in his face. No matter what I did, no matter how many times I got him back in my bed, he'd go back to her." Suddenly, her hand darted out and she grabbed his genitals, squeezing hard.

Surprised and in pain, Ranger let out an anguished shout.

She stepped back and sneered at him. "Men! You all think with your dick. She can't be _that_ good in bed. You've fucked her. Tell me ... what's so special about her? Does she have a gold-plated pussy? Do her tits squirt Jack Daniels? Never mind. That doesn't matter now. What matters is that she's going to die. Today!"

Her rant and high-pitched cackle got to Ranger and he yelled, "You're fucking crazy if you think you can get away with this..."

She raised her hand and struck him hard across the face. The force of the blow knocked his head back into the pillow and a coppery taste filled his mouth. He turned his head and spit the blood out onto the bedsheet.

A satisfied smile creased her face. "That's just the start of the blood that will flow in this room today. I'm going to get Stephanie here by taunting her with you, and what I plan to do to you. I'll give her instructions on what she has to do next, if she wants to see you alive. I will tell her if she brings in the police that I'll kill you immediately. Of course, she will tell the police, or maybe she'll tell your men at your little security company, for all the good it'll do her, or you. My plan is foolproof."

"No plan is foolproof," he countered, spitting out another mouthful of blood. Especially when you factor in Stephanie, he mused. His best laid plans over the years never worked out like he expected whenever Stephanie had been involved.

"I've thought of everything, Mañoso. You don't get to be the head of a multi-million dollar business unless you are an excellent strategist and a very thorough planner. And I am both. I will arrange for her to meet me, and she will jump at the chance to save you. Of course, they will put trackers on her and try to keep her under surveillance, but I have solutions for every contingency. I'll make sure we ditch the trackers and the followers, and I'll bring her here. Won't she love to see her big strong fiancé chained, naked to my bed and stoned out of his mind? I'll get my revenge on that stupid bitch, and I'll make her suffer so much, even Joe will lose his lunch when he sees her mutilated corpse. But don't worry. You'll be long dead by that time, so you'll be spared that horror."

His rage took over and he lunged at her, feeling the headboard give a little. She laughed. "Now, now, Mañoso. Don't tire yourself out. It'll all be over soon." She pulled the sheet back up across his chest, but not before running her hand over his abs and pecs. "I'll be back in the morning to give you your next dose."

He almost chided her for forgetting to give him the current dose, but then he felt the heaviness come over him once again, and he knew that the water had been drugged. He groaned as sleep overtook him.

...

She hadn't slept worth a darn, but a few hours had given her the energy to get up and try again. She'd checked in early in the morning with Tank and then stopped by the bonds office to talk to Connie and ask more questions. Tank had allowed her to go when she promised she'd come right back to RangeMan. Disappointed that Connie couldn't provide any more leads, she was in need of a sugar fix, and now she was sitting in a RangeMan SUV in the parking lot of a Dunkin' Donuts, nibbling on a Boston Cream and thinking. The person she was looking for might not be Terry, but she had to rule out that possibility before she could try to figure out another suspect … before _they_ could try, she amended. She'd promised Tank. No more solo adventures, and she was going to stick to her promise.

She thought about what Tank had said the night before, about how Ranger's disappearance could still be connected to hers, even though the basement room was empty. She needed more information on Terry, and there was one sure way to get it. It was a way that was best done alone, without RangeMan backup though, so instead of going back to see Joe, she picked up her phone. It was still early, and with luck she'd catch him before he got too heavily into his day.

"Hey," she said when she heard his terse, "What?"

"I need some information. Do you have a minute to talk?" She heard his deep exhale and waited.

"Yeah," he said after a lengthy pause. "You want to talk about the elephant in the room last night?"

"Uh …" She was uncertain what he was getting at. She did _not_ want to talk about what she thought had been a half-hearted attempt on his part to get her to spend the night.

"I'm referring to Terry, Cupcake. Do you want to talk about Terry? I know you think she's involved."

"How do you know?" Stephanie asked him. "Do _you_ think she's involved?"

"When you mentioned Long's Janitorial Supply it struck a chord with me. It may have a link to the Grizzolis. I don't know if Terry is involved. I hope she isn't." There was a pause before he spoke again. "I may have understated some things before, when I told you I broke it off with her. She might have been a little more upset than I told you."

"You asshole, Morelli!" Stephanie said. "You said she was upset. Now you're saying she was more than that."

"I did not put you in danger, at least not intentionally. She's got the capability of having someone taken out, because she has the family connections, but that doesn't mean she'd actually do it."

"It doesn't mean she wouldn't!" Stephanie cried. She wanted to scream at him and then throw her phone against the dashboard, but she couldn't. Because she needed him. "You owe me, Morelli. I need to know. If she had him, where would she keep him? If you know other places her family uses, I need to know… now."

There was silence for so long she thought for a moment the call had dropped. But then she heard him breathing. "Joe?"

"Yeah, Steph. I'm here. The thing is, Ranger has influence with the families. And not just the Grizzolis. He's respected by the Romanos, and you know he has connections with the Ramos family. I don't think Terry would risk the wrath of her own family, let alone the others if word got out that she'd … harmed Ranger."

"So, you _don't_ think she's involved?" Stephanie asked.

"I don't know. Terry can be a little ... intense at times," Joe said. "But if she did have him taken, she'd make sure it was by people she trusted, and she'd have him stashed someplace really off the grid."

"What does that mean ... off the grid?"

"Someplace not known to be in Grizzoli hands. I … may know of a place."

"Tell me." It was a command. Stephanie tamped down the excitement. This might be the break they needed.

Joe inhaled deeply and then slowly exhaled. "The information I'm about to give you can't be connected to me. Understand, Steph?"

"Yes," she almost shouted with impatience.

He took another deep breath. "When Terry and I were together, she kept ... uh ... a secret apartment in an old warehouse. This particular building isn't a regular Grizzoli holding, and it isn't monitored by her Uncle Vito, because ... well ... it sometimes ... um ... houses merchandise that he knows nothing about. It's also never been raided by the police." Joe sounded incredibly embarrassed, and maybe even ashamed. "The apartment is upstairs. Terry didn't want her family to know she was with a cop, and she knew if my superiors found out it would immediately be over between us, so the place is pretty private." She could sense the hesitancy in Joe's voice.

He didn't want to be telling her this, not because he was betraying Terry, but because he'd probably known of Terry's secret place when he'd been with her. And now he knew she'd know he'd been unfaithful to her. Anger spurted and she wanted to scream, shout, throw the phone out the window. It was a good thing that he wasn't in the car with her. She kept her voice steady. No trace of her anger slipped through. What he'd done to her was no longer important. What he could do to help Ranger was.

"Tell me where it is," she demanded again.

"You have to keep me out of it," Joe insisted. "I mean, totally out of it. If this got out, it would ruin my career. Can you agree to that?"

"Yes." She was impressed by her own restraint.

"Okay. I'm going to give you an address." The address he gave her was in one of the older areas of Trenton. "If you check it out, be careful, Steph. Really careful. Promise me?"

"I'm going to check it out now. And I will be very careful. What are the chances she'll be there?"

"I don't know, but I can do something that might improve your odds, if you're sure you are going over there right away."

"I am."

He once again recited the Trenton address, and added, "Be on your guard, Cupcake. And good luck."

Stephanie looked at the cell phone in her hand for a long moment. She'd come a long way from the arm-waving Italian-Hungarian girlfriend of a womanizing Trenton cop. She was an important part of RangeMan and an important part of Ranger's life. And she had a plan of action. She called Tank.

"I've got a lead, from Morelli," she said. "I need to move now, and I don't need a crowd, but I need good backup. Who can you give me?"

"I can give you me," he said. "Where are we going?"

She gave him the address. "I'll meet you there."

"No," he said. "You'll come back here and pick me up."

"Timing is critical, Tank. We need to get there as quickly as we can. I'll try to wait for you before I go in."

Tank closed his eyes and counted to ten. "You realize this means your time on the mats is doubled."

Steph almost grinned. "I can live with that. But Ranger may not, if we don't get there ASAP."

"I'm on my way."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: Final Move**

There'd been too many interruptions, too many invoices to sign, too many delays. She would be late getting to the apartment, late giving Mañoso his next dose of sedatives. She wasn't in panic mode yet. He was still handcuffed to the bed and getting weaker every time she saw him. It would be all right. As long as she got there soon.

And then her cell phone rang. Joe! What did he want now? He had refused to take her phone calls after he'd dumped her. She should refuse his call now, but she couldn't.

"What is it, Joe?" she grumbled.

"We need to talk," Joe told her. "Now."

"It's going to have to wait. I can meet you for lunch."

"That's too late, I just need a few minutes. You're going to want to hear what I have to say, Terry. It's important."

She looked at her watch. "All right. Come by my office."

"I'm not meeting you at your office. What about the apartment?"

"NO!" Terry cried, and then she forced herself to calm down. "You don't deserve to go there ever again, dickhead. Not after dumping me. Make it Columbus Park, the bench off of Hamilton Avenue. In ten minutes."

"Okay," Joe agreed.

Joe arrived first and claimed the park bench. Terry joined him a few minutes later. They sat apart, as if they didn't know each other. When Joe began talking, he didn't look at her.

"You look good, Terry..." Joe began.

"What the fuck? It's freezing out here and you want to chitchat. Why did you call me, Joe?" Terry demanded to know.

"All right," Joe said, realizing he wouldn't have much time with Terry. He hoped he could give Stephanie enough time to check out the address he'd given her. "I have to ask. Are you involved in what's going on with Stephanie and Ranger?"

Terry gave him the Bronx cheer. "Are you kidding me? I wouldn't soil my hands on that riffraff. Besides, there's no money in kidnapping, unless someone can afford to pay a huge ransom. I know your precious cupcake doesn't have any money. And while Mañoso is doing well enough, he doesn't have the kind of money that would make kidnapping a profitable venture for me."

"So, you're only about the money?" Joe baited.

"You know me," Terry said. "I'm greedy." She smiled slyly.

"If Trenton PD questioned you about the kidnapping, would you come out clean?" he asked.

"I have nothing to hide. Let them ask their questions," she smirked. "Am I on their radar?"

Joe nodded. "It looks like there's a syndicate connection to the kidnapping."

"The Grizzolis aren't the only game in town. Why would we be singled out?"

"They found two bodies, cousins with a Mob tie, and they know at least one of them was directly involved in nabbing Stephanie."

"Again, why would that lead them to us?" Terry turned to look at Joe.

"These guys were rumored to have worked for your uncle," Joe told her. "There's been talk of search warrants. If I were you, I'd prepare to be interviewed, and possibly searched."

Terry pursed her lips. "Thanks for the heads up, but there's nothing to worry about. I had nothing to do with the little bitch's ... forced vacation." Again, she grinned wickedly. She glanced at her watch and the smile disappeared. "Time's up. Places to go, people to meet..." She stood, but Joe grabbed her arm.

"Where are you going?" he blurted, hoping to delay her a few more minutes.

"You gave up the right to question me and my whereabouts a long time ago, Joe. I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine. Like I said, there's nothing to worry about. Maybe you should worry about yourself and your own relationship." She gave Joe an indecipherable look. Then she turned and quickly walked out of the park.

...

Terry drove like a bat out of hell, taking the corners on nearly two wheels while she sped to her secret place. She was afraid of what she might find once she got there. Mañoso had been without a sedative for way too long. She needed to wrap this up, today. As soon as she dosed Ranger again, she would call Stephanie and set her plan in motion. It would be all over by midnight. She nodded in satisfaction. But first, she had to make sure her ace in the hole was still in the hole.

When she arrived, she pulled her BMW around to the back of the building where it couldn't be seen from the street. But she had to enter the warehouse from the streetside. The lock was stiff with the cold weather. Frustrated, she jiggled the key several times, cursing under her breath. She was desperate to get inside and upstairs, desperate to see if Ranger was still there. That had been her one fear in all of this, ever since Stephanie had managed to escape. Ranger was infinitely smarter than that dumb bitch, and if anyone could get out of her special handcuffs and ankle restraints, it was Ranger Mañoso.

Finally, the lock gave way and she yanked open the door. She slipped inside and ran for the metal stairs that led up to the second floor. The warehouse was currently empty, but by next week the open bays would be filled with boxes and boxes of large flat screen TVs, lifted from a shipment from Bangkok that had been scheduled for a New York City big box store. Wouldn't they be surprised when their truck arrived empty? She smiled at the thought of depositing another sizable amount to her secret bank account in the Caymans.

Terry reached the top of the stairs when she heard a noise downstairs. Turning, she saw Stephanie Plum slip through the door she had just come through. Damn! She'd been in such a hurry, she hadn't locked the door behind her. Terry waited just long enough to see that Stephanie was alone. She stepped into the nearest room and pulled her weapon from her Michael Kors bag. Her well-laid plan just changed. It looked like she wouldn't have to call Stephanie after all; her prey had just walked in the door, speeding up the timeline.

Stephanie stood against the wall by the door, looking around the cavernous warehouse. She slowly inched her way down the inside wall toward a set of metal steps that served as access to the space upstairs. Before climbing the stairs, Steph looked back at the door she'd entered as if expecting it to open, but the door remained closed. She paused only long enough to pull her gun from its holster and then she began climbing.

Steph got to the top, but hesitated. Joe had only said the secret apartment was upstairs, but there was a lot of space and lots of closed doors. Which door opened into Terry's love nest? And would Ranger be there? Letting instinct take over, she started down the hallway to her left. The first door she came across was partially open, and though it was dark inside, Steph could see it was furnished as an office. She moved further down the hall.

The next door was locked. What did she do now? Blow off the doorknob with a well-placed bullet or wait for Tank and his nifty set of lock picks?

Before she could decide, a voice coming from behind her made her swing around with her gun drawn.

"I see you've decided to join the party," Terry drawled, her gun pointing straight at her.

"Where is he?" Stephanie demanded.

"He's here. He's been waiting for you, but ... he's a little tied up right now." Terry chortled. "I'm glad you've joined us. I have quite the entertainment planned for both of you."

"You sick bitch," Stephanie yelled. "Why are you doing this?"

"I think I explained myself quite clearly when I had you chained up in my other playpen. You ruined my future with Joe. And now, I'm going to ruin your future with Ranger."

Stephanie paused for just a second before shouting, "RANGER! Where are you?"

Terry raised her gun menacingly. "Shut the fuck up, you cow. Drop your gun or I'll start with your kneecaps."

Steph raised her gun and aimed for Terry's chest. "If it was anyone else, this bullet would go straight through their heart, but since you don't have one..."

...

Ranger had been drifting in and out of consciousness for several hours, but for the last twenty minutes or so, he'd been awake and aware of his surroundings. He knew it was morning and he knew that Terry was overdue. He pulled at his restraints, but he wasn't getting anywhere. And then he heard a noise. She was coming. He renewed his effort to dislodge the headboard. The cuffs bit into his wrists, but he kept yanking and straining. Blood dripped down his arms; he ignored it and the pain in his wrists. He was still dizzy, but his mind was clearing slowly.

Suddenly, he heard voices, two distinct voices, both of them feminine. And then he heard Stephanie yell his name. Adrenaline shot through his system and he threw everything he had into yanking his arms up, out and down. He did this again and again, feeling the headboard give a little more each time. The cuffs opened deep cuts into his wrists, but he was oblivious.

He heard screams and went berserk, giving one massive wrenching of his arms, and the headboard finally sprang away from the bed's base. The handcuffs slipped down their individual brass rods and Ranger's arms were suddenly free, with the cuffs dangling from his wrists. He immediately sat up and reached for his ankles, throwing aside the sheet that covered him. The ankle restraints were velcroed fabric and he made quick work of removing them. But when he swung his legs to the side of the bed, he nearly fainted. The drugs were still coursing through his system, and his head was still in a fog.

Despite his dizziness, he stumbled, naked, to the door and tried the knob. The door was locked from the outside. He lurched back to the bed, fighting the vertigo that threatened to topple him, and he grabbed the loose headboard. It was bulky, but the top rail was heavy, substantial enough to get the job done. Angling the unwieldy piece of metal as best he could, he garnered all his waning strength and drove the end of the brass rail against the doorknob. The force of the blow knocked the knob out of its base. Ranger kicked the door open and grabbed the jamb before he fell down. He pulled himself up straight and looked out into the hall.

At the sound of the crash, Steph and Terry swung their heads simultaneously toward the opening door that was just steps away. Terry knew there was only one person who would be coming out of that door, but Stephanie wasn't sure if it would be friend or foe.

When Ranger appeared in the doorway, Terry immediately swung her weapon toward him and fired. Steph saw a spray of bright red blood burst from Ranger's head just before he fell back into the room, and her heart nearly stopped. She aimed her gun straight at Terry and fired off several rounds. She knew at least one of her shots had hit its mark, as she saw a spreading circle of blood form on Terry's thigh.

Terry stumbled backward and raised her gun again, this time at Stephanie. She got off one shot before Steph fired again, this one striking Terry in her left shoulder. The force of the gunshot spun Terry around and her body folded over the metal railing. Steph ran to catch her legs before Terry toppled over, but she was already gone. Steph looked down at the warehouse floor and saw Tank standing over Terry's sprawled body. A pool of blood was rapidly forming around her head. Steph's gorge rose but she fought it down.

Turning, Steph ran toward the door where she'd seen Ranger. With her heart in her throat, she entered the room. He wasn't there! She nearly tripped over the broken headboard, but caught herself on the railing that ran across the foot of the bed. She saw the ankle restraints attached to the railing. She saw that the bed no longer had its headboard. She saw blood stains on the sheet. But she didn't see Ranger.

Frantic, she started toward the bathroom, but strong arms wrapped around her from behind. She nearly sobbed in relief. Spinning around in his arms, she stood face to face with Ranger. He was naked and he was bleeding. Blood poured freely from his right temple. He was unsteady, but he was standing. He reached for her gun.

"I'll finish this, Babe," he whispered, his hand folding over hers.

"It's finished, Ranger. She's dead," Steph told him.

He stared at her, as if he was trying to understand what she just said, and then his face broke out into a 200-watt smile. "You never disappoint, Babe."

He wrapped his arms around her, and she wrapped hers around him. They clung together, not saying a word, just living in the moment.

"Ahem."

Ranger and Steph turned their entwined bodies to see Tank filling the doorway.

"I'd say 'Get a room'," he practically muttered as he looked around the bedroom, his eyes lingering on the unmade bed, "but the cops will be here any minute. I've called them, and they're going to have a ton of questions. I know I do."

Steph pulled slightly away from Ranger and moved to stand in front of him, hiding his nakedness. Ranger put his hands on Steph's shoulders. He was still a little wobbly.

Steph looked over at Tank. "I know your rule about always having backup, but I couldn't wait for you. Ranger needed me."

Tank nodded. "Sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do." He looked over Stephanie's shoulder at Ranger. "You need an ambulance?"

Ranger started to shake his head, but thought better of it. He didn't need any more vertigo. "No. Find my clothes," he ordered. And then, slowly, he walked over to the bathroom and went inside.

Tank looked at the bed, then at Stephanie and shook his head. "No matter what happened in this room, he loves only you. Don't let this visual image get stuck in your head, Steph."

She nodded and swallowed several times. "Let's find his clothes. The police will be here soon." They found his clothes and other belongings in a dresser drawer and his shoes in the closet. They did not find his weapons.

Ranger came out of the bathroom, the blood cleaned from his head and where it had dripped onto his shoulder. The cuffs were still hanging from his wrists, but he had washed the blood away. Tank handed Ranger his clothes and gave Steph his handcuff key. Then he left the room.

Ranger sat down on the side of the bed and pulled on his pants and shoes. Steph sat beside him and unlocked the handcuffs. He let them drop to the floor. With tears in her eyes, she picked up his hands and kissed the wounds on his wrists. She leaned over and kissed the grazed area on his temple. The cuts were still bleeding a little.

"It's over, Babe." He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. When he put his hand under her chin to lift her lips to his, she pulled back.

"Not here, Ranger." She stood up and handed him his shirt. "Anywhere but here." She couldn't help but stare at the bed.

While he was buttoning his shirt, he glanced over at Stephanie. "Nothing happened, Babe. I promise you."

"You were drugged. You don't know what happened." Steph moved toward the door.

"I know that she got nothing from me. There's no way. For one, the drugs made it impossible. And two, she repulses me."

"Make that repulsed. Past tense." Stephanie closed her eyes and leaned her head against the doorjamb. "I killed her. It's like déjà vu. I've shot four people now. Four people are dead because of me."

Ranger rose and came over to her. He took her in his arms. "Four people tried to kill you. You shot each one in self-defense or to save someone else's life. They were all justified shootings."

"I know. It's just ... I didn't expect to ever kill _anybody_. I really don't want to do it again." She lowered her head to his chest.

"You never know what life will bring your way, but I'm glad you did what you did. I'm proud of you, Stephanie. You are a take-charge woman. You don't need anyone to rescue you. And, by the way, thanks for rescuing me."

She looked up at him, a slow grin starting. "Just trying to even the score, Batman. I have a long way to go. And, I might still need rescuing from some things." The grin was now full-blown. "I still haven't told our parents we are getting married without them."

Ranger snorted. "We'll handle that one together, okay?"

She nodded. "Can we get out of here now?"

They walked out the door without a backward glance, and went down to meet the police.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: Down Time**

The investigation would continue, but they let Stephanie, Ranger and Tank leave after only a couple of hours of questioning. Ranger refused medical treatment. His wound was a graze, but Stephanie knew it was probably very painful. "Just a graze" meant that the bullet had taken off a hunk of skin, and that he was going to have a scar on his beautiful face. Knowing his luck, it would only add to his dangerous persona and good looks. She was relieved it was just a graze though, and she was blissfully content in the knowledge that at this particular time, no one was hunting her or Ranger.

"First things first," Tank told them as they stood in the RangeMan garage getting ready to go their separate ways. "You need to see Bobby. I'm sending him up."

Ranger nodded. He was still suffering the after-effects of the drugs, and probably still had some residual drug in his system. Stephanie wondered if her hangover cure would work for him, but decided Ranger wasn't really a Coke and fries kind of guy. Probably sleep would be best.

As they stepped into the elevator, Tank called out to Stephanie, "I'll give you today, but tomorrow, 0600—the mats!"

The door slid shut and Ranger looked at Stephanie questioningly. "I sort of went rogue," Stephanie said. "I went without backup and tried to find you. Tank was a little upset and … I'll tell you all the details later. There's no hurry. We need to get upstairs and have Bobby take a look at you."

Bobby came up immediately and cleaned and dressed Ranger's head wound and the cuts on his wrists. "That was wasted time," Ranger told him, "because as soon as you leave, I'm getting in the shower."

"That's okay, boss. If you get it wet, Stephanie can change it for you. I'll leave you some supplies." Bobby looked at Stephanie for confirmation.

She nodded. "Yes, I can do it." She remembered the time not so long ago when she was changing the bandages on Grace's wound daily. She'd killed two people since then. She pushed the unsettling thought to the back of her mind and rejoined the conversation.

"How long will the drugs Terry gave Ranger stay in his system?" she asked Bobby.

"I don't know. What'd she give ya', boss?"

"Ketamine, and…" Ranger frowned, trying to remember. "And maybe Nitrazepam."

"Shit! And you're still alive!" Bobby exclaimed. "At the same time? She hit you with both of them at the same time?"

"I'm not sure," Ranger said. The frown lines on his forehead deepened with his attempt to remember. Stephanie saw how weak he looked, and for the first time glimpsed a little of what Ranger might look like as he aged. He seemed vulnerable, but she didn't think he'd appreciate her saying that.

"Thanks for your help, Bobby," she told him. "We can take it from here. I'll call if I need help with the dressing change."

As the door closed, Ranger sat heavily on the sofa. "Thanks," he said.

"For what?"

"For getting him out of here so quickly. I need to take a shower and then I need some rest."

"What about food?" Stephanie asked. "Do you need food?"

"Not now. First, I need a shower, and you're coming with me." He held out his hand to her.

"Sure," she said, laying her hand in his. He must be feeling very shaky. "Because you're exhausted and you'll need help?" she asked.

"Yeah, that too."

They stood in the shower, arms wrapped around one another for a long time. Stephanie started to pull away and reach for a loofah, but Ranger stopped her. "Not yet," he said. "Let me hold you a little longer." So she did. Eventually, the Bulgari shower gel was opened and they scrubbed one another with long languid strokes. It was sensual, but not sexual. She didn't have any energy left for sex, and she didn't think Ranger could, anyway, because of the drugs.

After they exited the bathroom, Stephanie put dry bandages on Ranger's wounds and they fell, exhausted and naked, onto his high thread-count sheets, and slept. When she awoke hours later, Ranger was still deeply asleep. She slipped out of bed, and made a detour to the bathroom before she found a RangeMan t-shirt to pull over her head.

Her stomach was telling her it was way past lunchtime so she went to the kitchen. She opened the fridge door and noted with satisfaction there were several containers of food left by Ella that just needed reheating. She was trying to decide on her lunch when she remembered the box of chocolates Ranger had brought her the night they'd gone to Shorty's. She closed the fridge door and found the box on the kitchen countertop. She picked out the four nicest looking ones and set them on a small plate. She almost had the top back on the box when she decided five was a better number.

She took her candy into the living room where she found Ranger's iPad on the coffee table. She sat down on the sofa and got ready to do some research while she had lunch.

She lifted her head a half hour later to see Ranger in black silk boxers, standing in the doorway. The white bandages were in stark contrast to the mocha latte skin and his disheveled black hair. She took a good long look at him. There were scars on his body, but they didn't detract from the perfection that was Ranger. He'd likely have a new one on his face, but maybe not so noticeable. It didn't matter. He'd carry it well, in any case. He looked much better than he had earlier. Almost like his old self, but, Stephanie glanced at the iPad in her hands. He wasn't himself if what she'd read was to be believed.

"What're you doing, Babe?" he asked.

"Oh, just some research. How are you feeling? Those are powerful drugs Terry was giving you."

"Is that what you're looking at?" he asked. "Information on the drugs?"

"Yeah," she said. She set the iPad down and rose to go stand close to him, since he hadn't moved from the doorway. "Are you feeling okay? Are you hungry, or thirsty? Do you need more sleep?"

"No, to all your questions," he responded. "You seem upset. What were you reading?"

"Oh, just about some possible complications from the drugs. Bobby was right. The mixture of those two drugs could have been deadly, depending on the amount you were given."

"I'm not sure what the dose was or if I had them at the same time. To be honest, I'm not sure what I had. I have no way of knowing if she told me the truth or not. What kind of complications?"

Stephanie blushed and looked away. She mumbled something that sounded remotely like, "important."

"What?" Ranger asked.

"Nothing," she said, her cheeks reddening even more.

"You said it was important," Ranger insisted.

"Impotent!" she exclaimed. "The drugs might have made you impotent. And ... um ... it can last for a while."

He moved closer to her and reached around her to place his hands on her bare butt, under the t-shirt. He pulled her in tightly so their pelvises were in close contact. He moved slightly. "That's not going to be a problem, Babe." He continued his movements.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Oh … oh … Ohhhh."

Later, when they were tangled in sheets, Ranger lazily trailed his fingers along her thigh. Stephanie was equal parts satiated, hungry and sleepy, but the fingers that were skimming so gently along her thigh and now even farther north, were starting to make the hunger and sleepiness recede.

She rolled over on her side to face Ranger. "Did you do that to show me that you are stronger than the drugs?" she asked.

"Maybe partly," Ranger said. "Mostly it was because I had an overwhelming need to be buried deep inside you. I wasn't really home until that happened."

"Oh." She sighed in deep contentment.

"You've been saying that a lot today," he told her.

"Saying what?" she asked.

"Oh. You've said 'oh' a number of times." He moved his hand between her legs and her thighs involuntarily spread a little wider.

"Oh …I mean, I, uh, didn't realize that," she said.

"I'm not complaining, Babe. I'm just commenting. And I'm warning you."

She lifted her head off the pillow and looked at him. The hint of a smile and the glint in his eyes should have _warned_ her. "Warning me about what?"

"I'm getting ready to help you exchange all those ohs for some moaning, and if I do my job right maybe some screaming." He rolled over on top of her and slowly started kissing his way down her body.

"Oh, I mean …ahhh…" His prediction had been right on the mark. It was the last oh she said for a while.

The next time she woke, she was in the bed alone. She picked up the discarded t-shirt and went to look for Ranger. She found him on the sofa, back in his silk boxers, with a half-eaten dish of Ella's cold chicken pasta next to him. He was holding his iPad, and she wondered if he was doing research on the drugs that had been given to him.

"What are you doing?" she asked as she picked up the plate and sat next to him. Her stomach growled and she put a forkful of the salad in her mouth. "This is good," she said. And she took another bite.

"Help yourself," he told her with a smile. "I'm making a list. We've got lots of ground to cover in the next couple of days."

"What kind of ground?"

"While we were sleeping, things were going on in the real world. I have messages on my phone. Vito Grizzoli wants to meet with me, ASAP, for starters."

"Uh oh," Stephanie said. "That can't be good."

"Probably not," Ranger agreed. "I also have a message from Brian Simon. Do you know him?"

"Yeah, he's the guy Joe got Bob from. He's a TPD detective. What's he want with you?"

"He's the liaison officer between the police department and the organized crime families in Trenton."

"My gosh! Is there really such a position?" Stephanie asked.

"There is. He's good at his job. He keeps the families from going to war with one another. Even though he's a cop, they seem to respect him. I probably should talk to him before I give Vito a chance to blow my head off."

"Oh!"

"There you go with the ohs again, Babe," Ranger said teasingly. "You don't need to worry about Vito. I'm sure he just wants to hear the story from me, about Terry. If he wanted to blow my head off, he'd just do it. He wouldn't have a meeting with me to tell me he was doing it."

"Oh …I mean … darn you, Ranger!" She punched his arm and was rewarded with the full-on 200-watt smile.

"Also, I just checked," he said, waving the iPad. "I need to be at City Hall between nine and eleven tomorrow morning."

"What for?"

"That's when they issue the wedding licenses."

Her heart skipped a beat. But it wasn't fear of being married. After what they'd been through, being married would be a snap. It was with excitement. Three days! She'd have to go shopping!

"Your phone has been dinging, too," Ranger told her. "You'd better check your messages."

Stephanie rolled her eyes. She could almost guess what her message list looked like, but she got up to retrieve her phone. She looked at the missed call list.

"My mother, my mother, my mother, Lula, Grandma, my mother, and a text message from … Joe. He wants to talk to me ASAP."

Ranger raised an eyebrow in question. "We haven't had time to talk it all out," Stephanie said, "but you should know, I wouldn't have found you without Joe's help. He knew about the apartment in the warehouse where Terry had you. He told me how to find the place."

"Well, then I owe him a debt of gratitude," Ranger said. "Make arrangements to talk to him," he continued, "but have him come here. I don't want you going to his place. I'll make myself scarce, so you'll have privacy."

"Okay," she said. She didn't want to see Joe, but she knew she should. How would he feel when he found out she'd been responsible for Terry's death?

"There's one more message on my phone that you need to know about," Ranger said. "It's from Tank. He said to let you know if you aren't in the gym downstairs tomorrow morning at 0600 he is going to come up here and personally haul your ass down there. Do you want to tell me about it now?"

"No."

"Babe."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21: Never Back Down**

She didn't think Tank had been kidding, so she set her alarm for 5:45 a.m. Ranger was up and ready to leave the apartment when she stumbled out of the bedroom, unshowered and unhappy.

"You're the boss," she told him. "Can't you keep this from happening?"

"I could if I knew what it was about," Ranger said.

"So, if I told you the entire story, you'd tell Tank I wouldn't have to do this?"

"Probably not," Ranger said. "When I'm not here, Tank is in charge, and I wouldn't usurp his authority unless there was a very good reason."

"Isn't the potential abuse of me a good reason?" she asked plaintively.

"Babe."

"Ranger."

"I don't know what you did that made Tank think you needed mat time, but you don't need to act like you're headed to surgery without anesthetic."

They stood and stared at one another for a moment, the realization of what they'd been through hitting them both with Ranger's careless remark about anesthetic bringing back the horror of the last few days. She went to him and wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged him tightly, and then she backed away.

"We've both got a busy day ahead of us, so I'd better go get this over with," she grumped.

"We do have business to attend to," he agreed. "I'm going to see Brian Simon early this morning. I'll be in and out all day. You should call Morelli this morning and get that over with, too."

She left the apartment and made her way down to the sub-basement of RangeMan. It was a place she rarely visited. As she exited the elevator, Vince and a new hire were getting ready to take the stairs up. They were sweaty with towels draped around their necks and looked to be full of energy. Apparently they hadn't had to face Tank. Vince gave her a sideways look, but said nothing. She entered the gym to find Tank waiting.

"I'm here," she said morosely. "Go ahead, hit me with your best shot. Let's get this over with."

Tank was placing dumbbells back on a rack, and he looked up as she spoke, and then did a double take. "Bad night?" he asked.

Stephanie looked down at herself. She was wearing the RangeMan t-shirt that she'd slept in, but she'd added a bra. Her yoga pants were old, but comfortable. Her Nikes were glow in the dark green. Nothing out of the ordinary there. She put a hand to her hair and noted the volume. Her curls had probably turned into frizz overnight.

"I didn't shower, okay? And I didn't put on makeup or comb my hair. What's the point if I'm just going to get beaten to a pulp?"

"Who's going to beat you to a pulp?" Tank asked, seeming puzzled for a moment. And then a wide smile broke out. "You think I called you down here to punish you?"

"Yes," she replied glumly. A low rumble sounded in his chest, and Steph realized he was laughing—at her.

"You think that's funny? Me, all black and blue?" she exclaimed, getting a little hot under the collar.

"Well, I do ascribe to the philosophy of no pain, no gain."

"No gain? I don't need to gain anymore pain. I've had enough pain this last week to last me a lifetime," she cried.

"I would agree," Tank said. "I didn't call you down here to punish you, I called you down here because I'm taking you on as a project."

That sounded a little condescending to Stephanie, and she puffed up a little. She wasn't anyone's _project_.

"Don't go getting yourself in an uproar," he said. "You've acquitted yourself well on two occasions recently. First with Grace, and then … yesterday. It seems you've got the shooting thing down pretty good." Stephanie winced at the term "shooting thing." She didn't like guns and she never would. She scuffed her toe against the edge of the mat and blew out a loud puff of air, not wanting to deal with any of this.

"I'm thinking," Tank continued, "that you need some serious hand-to-hand training. Something tailored to your size and your capabilities. So the next time someone attacks or abducts you, you'll have a better chance of getting away."

"I got away this time," she told him, shrugging her shoulders.

"You did, eventually. Life wasn't good for any of us when you were missing, though. I'd like to avoid that again." Their eyes met and held, until Steph broke the contact. Both seemed a little embarrassed. Tank cleared his throat and continued, "I'd like to train you. Here. Three mornings a week at 6 a.m. It's the only time I have free."

Steph stopped her fidgeting. He surprised her. "So, you're willing to take your free time to help me?" she said. "You made it sound as though you were going to put me through the wringer … work out your frustrations with me by flinging me against the ropes and then slamming me down on the mat."

His smile was wide, and all at once Stephanie had a glimpse of what she might have missed growing up without a brother. She ran across the gym and threw her arms around his middle as she had done earlier with Ranger, and held on tight.

Her time in the gym with Tank left her feeling empowered—a little tired but stronger. It wasn't that he'd taught her anything significant during the first session, but knowing that he cared helped bury the memory of the day before a little deeper. She wanted to spend some serious time in the shower, and then she'd text Joe. Talking with Joe was something she had to do, but it wasn't something she was looking forward to.

After her shower, she went through the clothes she had in Ranger's dressing room. Before her abduction, she hadn't been living exclusively at either apartment, so her clothes were spread between the two places. She didn't think it would be wise to meet with Joe dressed like a RangeMan operative. She settled on jeans and a blue stretchy t-shirt.

As she double-knotted her glow-in-the-dark Nikes, she thought maybe she'd actually get to run again. The danger was over, and her life should be getting back to normal. Should be were the key words. How did a person just get over killing someone? Especially someone she'd known and hadn't liked. When she shot Grace's attacker, she'd been shot as well. By the time she'd recovered, the entire attack had taken on a dreamlike quality. She hadn't known the man, and couldn't remember what he looked like. She remembered Terry. She didn't think she'd ever forget the sight of Terry going over the railing.

Later, while she was still thinking of excuses not to call Joe, her phone rang. Joe had taken the initiative.

"Hey," she said. She hated the tentative tone of her voice. She didn't know if she was angry or scared. She was definitely unsettled.

"We need to talk." He was abrupt, and her stomach roiled. Yes, they needed to talk, but could she handle it when he accused her of killing Terry? She had, of course, but it had been self-defense. "I went by your apartment," he continued, "but you weren't there. I'm assuming you're at RangeMan?"

"Yes."

"I'm parked in front of the building," he said.

Stephanie swallowed hard. She was afraid to see Joe Morelli, of all people. It would be nice to have some more time to think about it, but he was here and she couldn't put him off.

"Come on up," she told him. "I'll call downstairs and you can take the elevator to the top."

She was standing in front of the elevator as the doors slid open.

"Hi," she said, trying to hide her shock at his surprising appearance. He was dressed in jeans, his oldest, rattiest, most comfortable Levis, and a stained Trenton Thunder t-shirt. His eyes were shadowed by dark circles, and the set of his mouth was grim. His eyes were dark and unreadable. This had hit Joe hard.

"Come on into the apartment and we'll talk," she said. He nodded and followed her across the foyer and into Ranger's apartment.

As they walked into the living room, Joe smirked. "It must be true love," he said. "You gave up a prime off-Burg location at my place to settle into this one-bedroom apartment. I thought Mañoso would do better by you."

"This is a perfectly fine apartment," she started to defend Ranger's place. Joe interrupted.

"I'm kidding, Steph. I know Ranger's apartment wasn't his primary attraction for you. But still, I thought maybe you'd be living in something a little more upscale. RangeMan's a pretty successful enterprise, and a growing one. I just imagined you two would be living large."

"This suits us fine," she said, thinking of the still unseen Bat Cave, and the fact that she was to be married there in the very near future. She thought they would be living large, but she wasn't at all sure. She'd had a momentary flash of irritation at Joe's comments, and she wondered if he'd done it on purpose, because irritation was more familiar ground for them.

She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Joe. For what I did to Terry, I mean."

He frowned. "I'm sorry about Terry, too," he said. "But not for what you did. As I heard it, you were fighting for your life. So ... I'm sorry she wasted her life, but happy she didn't end yours." They looked at each other, neither saying anything, until Joe looked away, clearing his throat.

"I thought you'd be angry that I killed her," Stephanie said. "I thought you cared for her."

"Terry and I go back farther than you and I do, Cupcake. She was someone I had feelings for, and as hard as I tried, I couldn't completely shake them. You know what that's like?"

Stephanie nodded, remembering all the times she'd given up on Ranger and gone back to Joe, only to be tempted to give Ranger another shot.

"You didn't kill Terry," Joe said. "I saw the autopsy report. She killed herself when she pitched over the railing. She broke her neck."

"That's semantics," Stephanie said. "I'm the one that shot her and made her fall."

"And she was the one whose behavior left you no choice," Joe said matter-of-factly. "If you want to wear a hair shirt and beat yourself up for what happened, I can't help you. But you should get help. That's a symptom of PTSD: survivor's guilt."

"I do feel guilty," Stephanie admitted. "I've shot people before, but this time was different. I knew her, and I didn't like her."

"Would it have been better if you had liked her?"

"No, but..."

"But nothing, Stephanie. It was a horrible situation, and you handled it well." He looked away briefly before meeting her eyes again. "I thought you might be mad at me, for not knowing she was capable of..."

"Capable of kidnapping, torture and cold-blooded murder?" Steph almost snorted, but there was no humor in it. "I never knew what you saw in her, and after this...She was crazy, Joe."

He couldn't look at her. "Terry was always on edge, quick to anger. I could usually calm her down, but there were times..." He looked over at Steph and shook his head. "I didn't know. I swear it. After I joined the TPD, we really didn't spend much time together, and what time we did spend, was ... in bed."

"There was a time when you cheating on me with Terry would have sent me into a tailspin, but all that's in the past, Joe. You are in the past. We've both moved on, for good this time. There's no turning back, for either of us."

Stephanie looked at Joe long and hard. "You look like you've been having a hard time with this," she said to him.

He nodded. "I have," he said, running his hand through his unkempt hair. "But not strictly because of Terry's death. I've been concerned that my involvement with her would come to light. I know that's selfish, but my relationship with Terry has hung over my head for years. She took you because of her feelings for me, and I'm sorry about that, Cupcake. I learned, in a roundabout way from Frank Bouchard, that you told him it was because of a high school rivalry. He told me he'd talked to some of your high school friends, and they confirmed it. The two of you had a long-standing dislike of one another."

"Mary Lou," Stephanie confirmed. "He talked to Mary Lou."

"He did," Joe said. "And I guess I owe her a debt of gratitude, too. You kept me out of it, and I am very appreciative of that. I'm in a position for advancement in the TPD, and having my relationship with Terry come out would jeopardize that. So, I came to tell you thanks, thanks for not implicating me."

Stephanie walked across the room and collapsed into the leather armchair. She felt relieved. She'd thought Joe was going to come in and have one of his Italian temper fits. Instead, he'd been somber, and calm. He didn't blame her for Terry's death, and somehow that helped her a little. He came to her and squatted in front of the chair. His fingers lifted her chin until they were making eye contact. "There's another reason I came, Cupcake. I wanted you to know Alison and I are getting married, soon, without fanfare. Like you said, I'm moving on, and, hopefully, moving forward in my life. I wanted you to know."

"Joe," she breathed. "Ranger and I are, too … getting married without fanfare, I mean. And soon."

He stood and reached out to take her hands. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in an embrace. It felt familiar, if a little strange to be in his arms. It had been a while. "I care for you, Steph, and I probably always will, but things will be different from now on. I won't seek your company, but I won't avoid you either. I guess we will be friends without benefits." He smiled and she smiled back.

Her arms went around his middle and she hugged him tightly, realizing this was the third man she'd hugged that day, and the day was still young. She wasn't hugging him like she did Ranger or Tank. This was different and it had the feel of goodbye.

"I'm sorry," Ranger said from the doorway. "I don't mean to intrude. I was unaware you were here, Morelli." Stephanie did a mental eye-roll. She hadn't heard Ranger enter the apartment, and that meant he was in stealth mode. As for not knowing Joe was here, nothing happened at RangeMan without him being aware, especially an ex-lover of his fiancé being in his apartment with her.

"You're not interrupting, Mañoso," Joe said. He let Stephanie slide from his embrace. "Stephanie and I were just saying goodbye." In typical Morelli fashion, he bent and kissed Stephanie on the cheek and walked out of the apartment and out of her life.

"Are you okay?" Ranger asked.

"I don't know," Stephanie said, truthfully. "I thought he'd be angry at me. Instead he was grateful I hadn't involved him. He doesn't want his relationship with Terry to stain his record and his chance for promotion."

"Understandable."

A sudden wave of emotion surged through Stephanie, overwhelming her. "Ranger," Stephanie swung around and faced the wall, forcing back tears, "How do you do this?"

"Babe?"

"How do you act as if it's just business as usual? You just escaped a life-threatening captivity. How does that not affect you?"

"It affects me," he said. "But you always have to look forward. Not dwell on what was, but what will be."

"Like our wedding?"

"Like our wedding," he agreed. "I'll make all the arrangements. No fuss, but still a celebration of our love. Are you prepared to do this?"

"Yes! I'm prepared in my mind, but ... I need to talk to Lula. We have to shop!"

"You've got two days, Stephanie, because in three days, we get married."

She felt his arms come around her from behind and she turned to face him. He bent his head and his lips claimed hers. It was a serious, heart-thumping kiss that left her breathless and wanting more. But Ranger pulled away and looked down at her.

"I've got a lot of experience dealing with this type of thing," he said, referring to her earlier question. "That helps. It also helps sometimes to talk to someone. RangeMan has a psychologist on retainer, and she's available to you any time you need her."

Stephanie gasped at the idea. "A psychologist?" she asked. "You think I need a psychologist."

"I'm saying if you need one, she's available. You have to make that decision."

"Have you ever talked to her?" Stephanie asked.

"I have." That was something to consider, and maybe she would talk to someone professionally trained to help. But for now she was going to focus on moving forward. She was getting married.

"I love you, Ranger. Can we go see the Bat Cave now?"

"No."

"But…"

"Three days, mi amor. I won't show you the Bat Cave until then."

She stomped her foot and he laughed. "Three days, Babe. Three days until the beginning of forever."

...

His morning's work was done. The wedding plans were underway. Ranger was worried about Stephanie. He hoped she'd be forthcoming if she continued to have problems dealing with her part in Terry's death. Now he was getting ready to deal with another complication caused by Terry's death. Vito Grizzoli. Vito's bodyguard came from the side of the house and motioned to Ranger. "He'll see you now. He's in the grotto."

Ranger nodded and followed the man through the manicured gardens, down the steps and into a small stoned-lined cave. He'd been here once before, in the summer. Now, in the winter, the grotto seemed an unlikely meeting place, but he knew it was a reproduction of one of Vito's favorite childhood haunts in Sicily. The watery sunlight lit only the first few feet of the cave, but he could see Vito sitting on a stone bench in the back.

"Come in, my friend," Vito said in his heavily accented voice. Vito motioned to the bench across from him, and Ranger walked silently forward and took a seat that placed him in an inferior position. His back was facing the entrance, not something he was accustomed to, but something he was willing to risk in his present situation.

"It is a terrible thing, my niece is dead," Vito said. Ranger said nothing. "Teresa underestimated her adversary, and she has paid the price."

"Your niece's death is regrettable. I'm sorry for your loss, but her death came at her own hands," Ranger said.

Vito frowned. "She did not take her own life!"

"No, she did not," Ranger agreed. "Terry—Teresa," he amended, "attempted to take the life of my fiancé and then attempted to take my life. She was unsuccessful. It was her miscalculation of the situation that caused the fall that killed her."

"Teresa was always headstrong, reckless, even as a child. What she did, she did alone." Vito studied the impassive man sitting before him and asked, "You desire vengeance for her actions?"

"I do not. Any need to avenge my fiancé's honor died with your niece. I have no ill will toward you or your family. I hope to continue a mutually respectful relationship with you … and your associates."

"The matter is over then. Thank you for coming to explain your position to me." Vito nodded to the man who had been standing guard.

"Mr. Mañoso," the man said. "Allow me to show you out."

Ranger stood and looked at the squatty little man sitting on the stone bench. He wanted to smile, but he kept his mirth hidden. Both he and Vito had their secret caves, it seemed. He much preferred his.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22: Wedding Planner**

"I have a dilemma, Tank," Ranger said. "Stephanie told me she doesn't want a big wedding. In fact, she said she only wants two witnesses and the minister."

"Sounds good to me," Tank agreed.

Ranger frowned. "I want to give her what she wants, but I don't think that is what she really wants. She told me this right after she escaped from that dungeon they were holding her in. She was distraught, exhausted and still worried about finding her captors. She's really close to her family, and I think she'll regret it if they aren't there."

"So, you're going to go against her wishes and have a huge church wedding?" Tank accused.

"No, the wedding will be small and will be held at our new house, which Stephanie still hasn't seen. She wants it to be a surprise. But I was thinking of asking our parents and a few friends to be there."

Tank snorted. "You just don't want to have to deal with your mama's disappointment if you get married and she can't cry at your wedding."

"Well, there is that," Ranger chuckled, "but it's more than just our families being there. I want this to be a special day for both of us. I think Stephanie is remembering her first wedding, which was a big Burg church wedding with all the trimmings, and it ended in disaster. We can have our own distinct ceremony that does not remind her of past events. I just need to plan it carefully and keep Stephanie in mind at all times."

"I'm glad it's you and not me doing all of this," Tank said.

"Oh, by the way, you're my best man," Ranger quipped. "So, you're going to be in the thick of all of it. Your first assignment is to find us a minister." Ranger walked out of the office, whistling "Here Comes The Bride."

...

She waited impatiently at the curb and finally picked up her cell phone and called. "What are you doing up there? Bedazzling your outfit? Get your ample ass down here, now," Steph demanded. "I need my maid of honor to help me pick out my wedding dress."

Two minutes later, Lula sashayed out the front door of her apartment in a chartreuse yellow spandex tube dress with a newly bedazzled emerald crystal bodice. She yanked open the passenger door of the RangeMan SUV and plopped her ample ass on the seat cushion. "What was that reference to my finely sculpted derriere? 'Cause it's exactly the size it's supposed to be," Lula insisted. "It's _your_ ass that's way too skinny."

"Skinny or not, I have to find the perfect wedding dress to squeeze me and my ass into. I want to wow Ranger when he sees me walking toward him."

"That man's eyes light up every time you walk into a room, no matter what you're wearing. But leave it to Lula. I'll find you a great outfit that'll have his tongue hanging out."

"I don't want anything hanging out, not Ranger's tongue, or my ass, or my..." Steph glanced down at her chest. "Not that I have all that much to hang out." She sighed as she glanced over at Lula who was spilling out of her tight spandex dress in several places.

"So, you're really going to have only Tank and me at your wedding?" Lula asked. "That just seems like such a waste of a good party. All your family and friends have been waiting for the two of you to finally pull your heads out of ... the sand. And now that you have, no one but Tank and me gets to share your special day with you. It's a shame the two of you are finally tying the knot and you're not gonna share it with your family and friends. Not even your grandma? Isn't that sacrilegious?"

Steph's brows furrowed. "I know. There are a few people I'd really like to have at my wedding, but I've given this a lot of thought. It boils down to the Neverending Story."

"Huh?" Lula scowled.

Steph sighed. "If I invite my sister, then Ranger has to invite his five siblings. And they all have spouses and children. If I invite Mary Lou and Connie, then Ranger has to invite his best friends, but how does he invite one or two RangeMen and not the rest of them? Don't you see? It's never-ending. The list just keeps growing and growing and pretty soon, there are too many people to fit into the Bat Cave, and we'll have to move it to the PNA Hall, and I refuse to do that. So, it's the required two witnesses and the minister. That's it."

"I'm just sayin', that's not much of a celebration. And you and Ranger deserve a really great celebration. I mean, it's taken you years to finally get to this point. You should have a whopper of a wedding, with lots of friends and ... fireworks. Yeah, you need fireworks."

"No fireworks," Steph insisted. "Let's just get me a wedding dress, okay?"

"What kind of wedding dress you gonna get?"

"Something simple ... and elegant," Steph said.

"What? It's your wedding. To Batman! Simple just ain't gonna cut it," Lula declared. "I see you dressed like a princess, no, a queen. Something regal. Yeah, lots of satin and lace, and maybe those Sarkozy crystals, the real ones," Lula said, looking down at her rhinestone bodice, "Not the cheap stuff like this."

Steph shook her head. "No Swarovski crystals and no lace. I had the big poofy dress with lots of lace when I married Dickie. With my big poofy hair, I looked liked a frizzy balloon."

Lula glanced over at her friend and said, "You may have a point. Elegant is the key, then. But nothing simple. Leave it to me. I know just the right look for you. And it'll have Ranger drooling, too."

"Nothing too slutty. This isn't a distraction," Steph stated. "Ranger's seen me in enough vampy clothes. I want him to be proud of me." With a sly smile, she added, "And maybe there can be a little drool."

...

Stephanie smoothed down the glistening white sheath hugging her hips. It was a beautiful gown, elegant yet sexy. Nothing like the hideous frou-frou ball gown she'd worn the first time. Why was she even comparing? There was no comparison. She let all thoughts of the past float away from her mind. Today was about today ... and tomorrow. And all the rest of her tomorrows. Hers and Ranger's!

As for the Bat Cave! She hadn't been able to explore everything yet. Ranger had brought her here a few hours early so that she could get ready for their wedding. As they drove north toward Lawrence Township, she got an inkling that the Bat Cave was going to have a very special setting. She was not disappointed. They were still only minutes from downtown Trenton, but the area was a world apart from the Trenton she was familiar with.

The area was very upscale with all the homes on large lots. But the Bat Cave was a home apart from all the others. In fact, she couldn't see any of her neighbors, the lot was that large and was surrounded by thick woods. The house itself was spectacular. Like one of the old stately mansions she'd always fantasized about living in. All stone and grey brickwork, covered in a glorious profusion of dark green ivy. There were so many big windows, she knew the inside would be filled with tons of light.

Ranger had led her on a quick tour through the house so she could get a glimpse of all the rooms, and the views! The house sat on several acres of land and had wonderful views of the woods around the house. The interior was sumptuously furnished and decorated. She couldn't wait to explore each room at her leisure. Ranger had been very clear in his assurance that she could change anything she wanted to, from the color scheme to the furniture. Right now, she couldn't imagine changing a thing.

Ranger had settled her in one of the guest rooms; there were many. He said he would show her the master bedroom later that night. She would just have to be patient.

"Lordy, but this place is sparkly from head to toe," Lula exclaimed as she burst into Steph's changing room. "Those big picture windows and those ceilings... I haven't seen ceilings that high since I went to Midnight Mass last Christmas." Lula was wearing a sapphire blue dress that accentuated all her curves, but for once those curves were nicely contained inside the dress. And she'd kept her hair its natural color, though she did have a matching blue fascinator tucked into her upswept afro. Lula looked like the poster child of a fashion-forward, stylish maid of honor.

Steph laughed at Lula's obvious appreciation for the house. But she needed Lula's help. "Should I wear my hair up or down? It rained last night and I can't seem to tame the frizz."

Lula looked Steph up and down before speaking. "A bride should be the center of attention, but that floating cloud you call hair is big enough to be the center of the universe. I say we pull it together into an updo and pin it down real good."

An hour later, Lula finally let Steph look into a mirror. Steph's mouth nearly dropped open. "Lula, when did you learn how to do this? I have curls again, but the way they cascade down from the back is magical. I can't even see the pins." She touched a strand of hair that swirled from her temple, giving her just the right touch of imperfection to offset the rest of her masterfully contained mass of curls. Lula held up a hand mirror so that Steph could see the back better. "Oh, I love the tiny jewels," Steph exclaimed, gingerly touching the sapphire-blue sparkles dotted throughout her hair.

"They match the orchid bridal bouquet Ranger had made for you. That man has thought of everything. He even got me my own bouquet to hold when I stand up for you. I'm taking notes for when I get married, someday." Lula went silent.

"I'm sorry, Lula, about you and Cal," Steph murmured.

"Hey, no biggie," Lula perked up. "We had a fantastic time for a while. Cal's a great guy, but he isn't really marriage material. I learned a lot from him, though. I can hit my targets now, so don't you be giving me a hard time about carrying when I'm on the job."

"Who's your partner now?" Steph asked.

"Ranger's been sending Jake, now that Cal's been promoted at RangeMan. Jake's young and inexperienced, but I'm teaching him all I know. At least he's easy on the eyes. He ain't no Cal, but he's okay to work with."

Strains of music came drifting upstairs. Stephanie had expected Ranger to pick something classical, but the melody that reached her ears was "Lovely Day," a contemporary song she had commented on months ago. Ranger had remembered. She started to tear up and then heard Lula admonish her.

"No, no, no. No crying. Your mascara's waterproof, but even that can only hold up for so long. Save the waterworks for later."

"It's just that ... it's finally happening. Ranger and I are getting married. Now. It's _someday_!" Steph sniffled. "I kind of miss my parents ... and my grandmother. And Mary Lou. I know they are my past, and Ranger is my future, but they're a part of me, an important part." She straightened her shoulders and gave a tiny shake of her head. "But today is about Ranger and me."

"Your family and friends are still an important part of your life, even after you're married. You just focus on Batman today. It's time to get you downstairs. I'll go first."

Steph reached out and touched Lula's arm. "Thank you for being here for me. I don't know what I'd have done without you. Who'd of thought we'd both be here today, from where we started when we first met?"

"I ain't ashamed of my past, but I am so thankful it's all in the past. And that's because of you, Steph. I'd still be hookin' if you hadn't suggested I work for Vinnie, not that Vinnie's the greatest boss, but my life has certainly taken a turn for the better since I met you."

"Mine, too," Steph agreed.

They gave each other a heartfelt hug. Lula took one last look in the mirror, adjusted the girls so they were front and center, gave Steph a wink and, as the music downstairs changed to Etta James' "At Last," out the door she went.

Steph took a deep breath, stared at her image in the mirror, smiled and, as the familiar melody of Wagner's "Bridal Chorus" played, she made her way out the door and toward the top of the staircase.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23: Wedding Daze**

Stephanie turned the corner and prepared to make her way down the stairs. Her breath caught and her eyes filled with tears. "Daddy!"

Her father looking handsome, if uncomfortable, in a tuxedo stood at the top of the stairs. "C'mon, pumpkin, I'm here to escort you down to meet your groom."

"But, how?"

"It's a father's right to give his daughter away, and I'm pleased to be giving your hand in marriage to Ranger. Now let's go. Everyone is waiting."

"Everyone?"

"You'll see." He held out his arm and she took it, and together they walked down the grand staircase.

She didn't know who she'd be seeing, but she found she was glad her parents were going to be part of the celebration. Probably Ranger's parents, too.

At the bottom of the stairs, she hesitated and looked across the foyer into the room that had been prepared for the ceremony. There was a small group of people. Ranger's parents, her mother and Grandma, and Connie and Mary Lou. Her smile widened. Lester and Bobby looked handsome in their dress clothes. Then Ranger stepped front and center, and she forgot about how nice Bobby and Lester looked.

He was sporting a tux, like her father, but there was no comparison as to which man filled out the formal wear better. He looked magnificent. The bandages were gone from his temple and the healing wound was barely visible. Her heart swelled, and then fluttered as he continued to stare at her. His expression was not blank, and although she didn't share his ability to read minds, she could tell by the directness of his gaze, he was ready, even eager, for the step they were about to take.

…..

Ranger swallowed the emotion building inside of him. For the first time in his adult life, he was having trouble controlling his feelings. When he'd talked to his parents about the upcoming wedding, and seen and heard his mother's tearful reaction, he'd been affected deeply. It made him realize just how much he wanted what his parents had shared together the past forty years. And he could see it all coming to fruition as Stephanie moved through the room toward him. She was stunningly beautiful, he realized. His bride! The smile came unbidden.

He thought she would have regretted not having her family present, but there was a lingering doubt as to how she'd react. The serene smile and the directness of her gaze told him he'd made the right decision and the niggling worry vanished. He stepped forward to take her arm from her father.

They stood under a small archway of flowers with Tank and Lula on either side of them. And then yet another of Ranger's surprises stepped forward from the alcove where he'd been waiting. Ranger smiled broadly as he felt Stephanie startle at the sight of the minister.

"S-Sally?" she asked, softly.

Ranger leaned toward her and whispered. "He's an ordained minister. This is all legal, Babe." And then Ranger took a good look at Sally Sweet, and he was startled, too. The cross-dressing musician was wearing a floor-length robe of deep purple, suspiciously close to eggplant, he realized. And he'd promised Stephanie, no eggplant dresses. A scarlet stole embroidered with multi-colored flowers hung around his neck. There was a gold chrysanthemum tucked into Sally's shoulder-length curls, behind his right ear, which Ranger remembered from time spent in Hawaii, meant Sally was available. Ranger didn't think there'd be any takers here. Then Sally's rich baritone voice rang out in the room, and all attention was focused on the bride and groom.

"Good afternoon and welcome to the ceremony that will unite Carlos and Stephanie in marriage. I am Salvatore Sweet, a Rock of Ages Celebrant of the Church of the Purple Haze, and I've known the bride and groom for some time. I know they believe in a thing called love, that they listen to the rhythm of their heart."

Ranger recognized the lyrics of a popular rock song, and he internally groaned. He'd kill Tank. This had been his idea. But as Sally went on and the words became more traditional, he relaxed. Their vows were simple. He heard himself repeat the words after Sally's prompting. "To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish all the days of my life." He breathed a quiet sigh when his words ended, and he stared deeply into the bluest eyes he'd ever seen while Stephanie repeated the vows to him.

Before he knew it, he was turning to Tank to take the ring from him. He slipped the platinum band on her bare ring finger—she'd moved her engagement ring to her right hand for the ceremony, and then he held out his left hand and watched her slip a matching platinum band on his ring finger. The mutual exchange of rings gave a tangible reality to the vows they'd just spoken.

When Sally told him he could kiss his bride, he did without hesitation, his lips lingering on hers in a chaste sampling of what was to come later. But not too much later, if he had anything to say about it. They broke apart and Ranger took hold of her hand. He turned and smiled at the small group of guests.

"Thank you for sharing this special moment with us. It's taken us a while to get here, but now that we're here, we intend to live each moment together to the fullest." He turned to Stephanie and gave her another brief kiss before addressing the small group surrounding them. "Please join us in celebrating our wedding." He lifted his free hand to indicate the table at the side of the room where platters were filled with assorted canapés, and silver buckets held bottles of champagne.

The party started immediately, with the noise level in the room rising dramatically. Champagne flowed freely, and the mounds of food Ella had prepared quickly decreased as the guests mixed and mingled.

When the background music changed, Ranger spun Stephanie out to the middle of the room and their first dance as a married couple was to Billy Joel's "Just the Way You Are," a fitting song for them. Ranger had been taking Steph out dancing ever since they'd attended his parents' fortieth wedding anniversary party, and now, all that practice was paying off. She felt comfortable in his arms and was able to match his movements without thinking about it too much.

As the melody faded, Frank Plum stepped up behind Ranger and tapped him on the shoulder. With a knowing smile, Ranger relinquished his new bride, one last time, to her father. The song that filled the room was "You Look So Good In Love" by George Strait. Tears filled the corners of her eyes as her father danced with her, but she managed to keep them contained, though she suspected her father's disappearance immediately after their father-daughter dance ended indicated he was having some trouble containing his own emotions.

Ricardo Mañoso came up to the happy couple as they enjoyed a glass of champagne. He hugged his son and bent to kiss Stephanie on the cheek. "Welcome to the family, Stephanie. Sofia and I couldn't be happier."

She smiled at her new father-in-law. "I'm happy to be part of this family, Mr. Mañ…uh, sir."

"Papa," Ricardo said, his hand on his son's shoulder. "Carlos calls me Papa, and I would be thrilled if you would also."

Again, Stephanie smiled. "Papa," she repeated.

"It is your wedding and I cannot resist dancing with you. Would you do me the honor?" He bowed slightly and held out his hand.

Steph's smile was becoming a fixture on her face when she was with her charming father-in-law. He looked so much like Ranger, or, Ranger looked like his father. "I would love to dance with you," she replied. Ricardo took her masterfully into his arms and twirled her around several times before settling into the rhythm of the music that was playing. She thought the song was "I Wish You Love," an old song her father used to whistle while he worked in the garage. She had fond memories of this melody with her daddy, and now, she was making a new one with her papa. By the time he led her off the dance floor back to Ranger's waiting arms, she was warm but still smiling.

"I could use some more champagne," she began, but faltered midsentence, "… oh my gosh!"

Ranger also smiled. He'd seen the cause of Stephanie's exclamation. Ella and her niece, whom she'd hired for the day to help with the preparations and serving, were wheeling the last of his surprises into the room.

"It's huge!" Stephanie exclaimed.

"Is that a problem?" Ranger asked her.

"No," she laughed, delighted. "Let's go get a piece now!" She took Ranger's hand and pulled him toward the most perfect wedding cake she'd ever seen.

With Ella's help, Stephanie carved a healthy slice out of the multi-layered cake. "You need to feed Ranger a piece, Stephanie, and then he will feed you one," Ella told her. "It's to symbolize your commitment to provide for each other with loving care."

As Stephanie held a large piece of thickly iced cake up to Ranger's mouth, he asked her, "Are you going to smash this in my face?"

Stephanie looked affronted. "I would never waste cake in that way!"

Ella took over the cutting and her niece helped to serve cake to the guests. Bobby was seated on a sofa, his cake plate balanced on his lap, sipping champagne when he saw Stephanie's grandmother heading directly toward him. He thought she was in her seventies, but it was hard to tell; the years had not been kind to her. However, her libido had not been dampened by her advancing years. He knew a moment's fear and then relaxed as he realized there was no way she could grope his ass when he was sitting on it.

"Hi, there," Edna said as she sat down on the sofa next to Bobby. "You're the medical man at RangeMan, isn't that right?"

"Yes, I am," Bobby said, hoping she wasn't going to prattle on about all her ailments and then ask for medical advice.

"I've been having some trouble lately, and I was wondering if you could help me out," she said. Bobby inwardly groaned.

"I've got blood pressure issues. Every time I get next to a hot man my blood pressure goes up. It's probably through the roof right now." She leered at him, and his stomach rolled over. "Would you like to go someplace a little less crowded and check my blood pressure for me?"

The old lady was propositioning him! "Sorry," he told her. "I can't check your blood pressure. I don't have a sphygmomanometer."

"Oh, no problem," she told him. He watched in horror as she reached her bony hand out and squeezed his knee. He had to fight the urge to flinch, which would have sent his cake plate flying. "At my age I don't need that kind of protection," she explained.

"What?" he cried. Then, "Oh! No. A cuff. I meant I don't have a cuff with me."

"A cuff, a sleeve, a raincoat," Edna said. "Whatever they're calling it these days, we don't have to bother with one."

Bobby choked on a piece of cake as Stephanie's mother approached.

"Mother," Helen Plum said. "Come with me. I'd like to introduce you to Sofia Mañoso, Carlos' mother."

"Well, I don't know," Edna said. "Bobby and I were just making plans to play doctor, if you know what I mean." She winked at Bobby.

"Mother!" Helen Plum jerked her mother's arm so hard it was a miracle the old lady didn't need medical attention for a dislocated shoulder. Bobby quickly finished his cake, downed his champagne and went to give his congratulations to the happy couple. And then he'd leave, before Edna came looking for him again.

Bobby's departure started a trend. It was unspoken among the guests, but they seemed to know the bride and groom were longing for alone time.

Lester was deep in conversation with Ella's attractive niece. Tank didn't know if anyone else had noticed. Normally, something like that wouldn't escape Ranger's attention, but Ranger was otherwise occupied. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off his bride. Tank sighed and went over to do his duty. He was the best man and Ranger's number two so it was only normal that this job would fall to him.

He walked to Lester and nudged him on the back. "A word, Santos."

"Beat it, Tank, I'm busy here." He smiled his infamous disarming smile at the girl— and she was a girl—that was the problem.

"Your choice, Santos. I can say it here or in private, but I'm going to say it."

Lester squeezed the girl's arm. "I'll be right back, darlin'. Don't go anywhere." They walked to the other side of the room. "What's up your butt?" he asked Tank.

"It's not my butt I'm worried about," Tank said. "I'm trying to save your ass. That girl is underage. And she's related to Ella."

"I know she's Ella's niece," Lester said. "And she's not underage. She's twenty-one."

"She's off limits," Tank insisted.

"Give me some credit. I'm not an idiot," Lester said. He turned and walked back to continue his conversation with Ella's niece. Tank shrugged his shoulders. He'd tried. A burst of laughter drew his attention to the group of women in the foyer.

Mary Lou threw her arms around Stephanie. "I am so happy for you. I've never seen you so ... serene," she told Stephanie. "You're a beautiful bride."

"Yeah, you clean up good," Connie added. "And I've seen you at your worst. Congratulations."

"Thanks," Stephanie said. "The credit for this hair goes to Lula. Didn't she do a great job?" Stephanie twirled to show off the intricate hairdo. "And thanks to both of you for coming. It wouldn't have been the same without you."

"Ranger said it was a surprise," Connie said. "He made us promise not to tell." She looked around the expansive foyer and up the grand staircase. "So, this is the Bat Cave, huh?"

"It is," Stephanie said. "And it's where I'm living from now on. I'd give you a tour, but I haven't even seen everything yet."

"We'll give you time to get settled in, but then…" Mary Lou stopped talking to frown at the sound of a beep that indicated she'd received a text message. "Sorry," she said as she pulled her phone from her purse. "I've got a sick kid at home." She read the message and then shot an apologetic glance at Connie. "I've got to go. It's nothing serious, but my husband's freaking out, and since you're my ride…"

"No problem," Connie said. She hugged Stephanie. "I'm happy for you, Stephanie."

The women left and Stephanie went in search of her husband. Husband! Ranger was her husband. She smiled again. She was surprised her face wasn't sore from smiling. Ranger was saying good-bye to her family. She watched in amusement as he hugged her Grandma. "It was nice to see you here, Edna."

Grandma looked Ranger up and down and gave him a cheeky grin, "Well, young man, it's always better to be seen than viewed!" Her family left the house, and Stephanie laughed out loud at her Grandma's flippant remark, which had momentarily left her husband speechless.

She looked around and saw that everyone was gone, except Lula and Tank, and Sally. She went to the group and grabbed Sally's hand. "You're a minister. I had no idea!"

"Yeah," Sally said. "The band is back together, and we've been doing a lot of weddings. We're in the process of setting up a whole wedding service. So, I got ordained. This way I can run the whole show. I marry 'em, and then I'm the DJ at the reception and the vocalist in the band. I'm the whole deal!"

"Are you still doing wedding consulting like you did with my sister, Val?"

"It's part of our package," he said. "I hate to break up this conversation, but I've got to run. I've got another gig tonight. I wouldn't have missed this one though." He gave Stephanie a bone-crushing hug and headed for the door.

Ranger came to Stephanie's side and stared pointedly at Lula and Tank, the only two remaining guests.

"Well, I guess I can take a hint," Lula said. "Me and Tank signed all the witness papers, so everything's legal. We'll be going now." She grabbed hold of Tank's arm and pulled him toward the door. "C'mon on, big boy. I think we overstayed our welcome."

And then they were alone. Ranger's arms, already around her, tightened their hold. "Are you happy, Babe?"

She nodded and exclaimed, "Yes!"

"Then the surprise of wedding guests was okay with you?" He brushed his lips over the smooth skin of her forehead.

She responded by nuzzling his neck. "It was wonderful," she said. "But how did you ever arrange it?"

"Ella," Ranger said. "I couldn't have done it without her." He walked Stephanie across the room toward a large armchair where he sat and pulled her down onto his lap. "There's a guesthouse at the back of the property," he said. "I'm thinking of offering it to Luis and Ella. Luis could handle the estate and Ella could continue, much as she has been doing, taking care of me … and now you."

"That would be nice," Stephanie said. It would be wonderful, in fact. She had trouble keeping her small apartment clean and in order. This place was way more than she could handle. "But what would happen at RangeMan?"

"I'd have to hire someone to replace Luis, but if I'm no longer living at RangeMan, there'd be no need for Ella. Or at least not a fulltime need for Ella. I haven't made any decisions yet. I thought I'd ask your opinion. You have a vote, now."

Stephanie ran her hands through his hair. She pulled his head to hers and, after kissing his wounded temple, placed her lips against his. "If I have a vote, then I vote we retire to the master bedroom. I haven't seen it. I don't even know where it is."

Ranger kissed her. "I'll happily show you our bedroom. Remember, you can make any changes you like."

"The main change I want to make is out of this dress and into your arms … in our bed."

"Don't be impatient, Babe. I want to savor every moment of our next few days. I've been alone most of my adult life, and that was fine. But now I am looking forward to being half of a couple. To finally have a future I can look forward to."

She thrilled at the words. He'd always told her that maybe, someday, and someday was ... now.

"I want to sit here with you on my lap for a few more minutes and revel in the fact that you're mine," he told her. "And then I'll take you upstairs and love you like you've never been loved before."

"You already do love me like I've never been loved before," she told him. "From the day I met you you've treated me better than any other man ever did, so I'm reveling, too. But can we revel together while you give me a thorough tour of this place?"

"I'll give you an in-depth tour. I'm going to show you how much I love you, room-by-room." His lips found that sensitive spot at the base of her neck and she shivered.

"You mean?"

"Yes," he said. "I mean that we'll start in the master bedroom tonight. But we're going to turn this from a house to a home, one room at a time. I'm going to make love to you in every room, in every nook and cranny." He wrapped his arms around her and stood. Her heart thrilled as she realized he was going to carry her upstairs. They were going to make love in every room!

"This place is huge, Ranger. That will take forever."

"Babe, the Bat Cave is forever."

 _AN: While this is just the beginning of Ranger and Steph's married life together, this story has come to an end. We hope you have enjoyed it. Since two writers collaborated on creating this story, we each have written an epilogue—of sorts—to finish it._


	24. Chapter 24

**Epilogue 1: Two For the Road**

 _Two minutes after they left the Bat Cave…_

"I appreciate you walking me to my car, an' all," Lula told Tank. "But it ain't really necessary. You should know this place has good security, and the neighborhood is what you'd call upscale."

"I'm not walking you to your car," Tank said. "I need a ride."

"Say what?"

"I need a ride. I came with Lester and the asshat left without me," Tank said.

Lula stopped walking and turned to give Tank her complete attention. "What'd you do to him?"

"I didn't do anything. He had a hard-on for Ella's niece—the girl helping her with the reception, and I think he left with her."

"That ain't good," Lula said. "She's a baby. She's way too young for Lester."

"That's what I told him," Tank said. "He told me he wasn't an idiot, but I'm thinking he is."

"He wouldn't," Lula hesitated. She knew Tank well, but the other Merry Men not so much. "Lester wouldn't force himself on her, would he?"

"No," Tank said unequivocally. "He won't force himself, but he can charm the pants off most any female. Stephanie's the only one he's tried and failed with, and I don't think he tried all that hard with her. He was afraid of dying."

"That bothers me about that young girl," Lula said. "Young girls get themselves into all kinds of trouble over men."

"You know a lot about young girls in trouble?" Tank was fascinated at the abrupt change in Lula. She was taking the information about Lester and the young girl to heart. He'd rarely seen her so serious about anything.

"I've seen girls on the street that were way too young to be out there, and it was usually some man that put them there," she said, a little heat rolling off of her.

"Did a man put you there?" Tank asked. Her stare made him uncomfortable, and he heard himself apologizing. "Sorry, none of my business." Not too many subjects were off limits with Lula, but this was one of them, apparently.

"Come on," she said as she starting walking down the curved drive. "Get your sorry ass into my car, and I'll take you home."

They walked in silence to the shiny and meticulously clean red Firebird. She beeped the locks open and slid behind the steering wheel. Tank attempted to get in and then backed out. He reached down and moved the passenger seat as far back as it would go and then reclined the seat about half-way. He lowered himself into the car and felt his shoulder brush against hers. His knees were jammed against the dash and he hoped there'd be no accident. It would be hard to recover from two crushed kneecaps.

"I don't know why you drive this compact car. You should get a full-sized model," he told her.

"This ain't no compact." Lula's voice rose in defense of her beloved baby. "This here is a sports car. It's a 2002 Firebird with T-tops and black leather interior. 2002 is the last year they made Firebirds, and it's an American classic. It just gets more and more valuable every year. I bet you can't say that about your big ole pick-up truck. And the problem isn't that my car is little. It's that you're big."

Tank turned his head to the side to look at her. It was the only part of his body he could turn. "I seem to remember there was a time when you liked my … uh, bigness."

"Hunh!" Lula shifted effortlessly through the gears as the car accelerated out of the gated drive and onto the highway. "Where am I taking you?" she asked.

"Back to RangeMan. I left my truck there. Then I might go looking for Lester."

"Are you that worried about him and that girl?" Lula asked.

"No. He has too much respect for Ella to do anything really stupid. He's probably just enjoying the experience of having a young attractive girl salivate over him. I want to find him because I'm pissed that he left me. I like to get even sooner rather than later."

"I ain't seen much of you lately," Lula said. "You look good in your tuxedo. Maybe you're getting used to wearing one. I hear you been keeping time with a society lady."

"Where'd you hear that?" he asked, even though he knew. Lula and Stephanie were confidants. It was, on the surface, a strange relationship, but as the years passed and they'd worked together, they'd become very close. No doubt Stephanie had told her of his trips to Georgia. "I've been doing some work out of the Atlanta RangeMan office," he said, not wanting to discuss Grace with Lula.

"That so? I heard you was banging Ranger's old girlfriend. The one Stephanie saved from being killed." And there was the Lula he knew, and loved. Knew and _liked_ , he amended. He didn't respond. What could he say? It was the truth. He smiled at the thought of Grace "banging" anyone.

It had been a novel experience for both Grace and him. She probably felt as though she was slumming when they were together. He didn't mind that their time together always occurred out of the public eye. Most often at her place in Savannah, but once at the RangeMan headquarters in Atlanta. In one of the staff apartments. He thought she'd gone out of curiosity, to see part of Ranger's world. He didn't kid himself about that. Although Grace would never verbally make the comparison, that would be too vulgar, he knew he was once again the number two man. Tank sighed and tried to wriggle his body into a more comfortable position.

Lula looked across the short distance at him. "You gone quiet all of a sudden. Are you dreaming about your southern woman, or are you still worried about Lester?"

Tank moved his right arm and banged his elbow against the door. "Pull over," he said tersely. She did. She pulled the car so sharply to the right and out of the driving lane that Tank's shoulder was thrown against hers. When the car had come to a stop on the side of the road, he opened the door and got out. He reached into the pocket of his tuxedo pants and retrieved his phone. His thumbs worked the keyboard for a few seconds, and then he got back in the car and motioned for her to go.

"Buckle up," she said. "And what the hell was that all about?"

"Your _compact_ car isn't big enough for me to get my hand in my pocket."

"Hmm," she said. "Wouldn't think you'd have to put your hand in your own pocket. Southern woman come up lackin'?"

"Lady, she's a lady," Tank corrected. Grace was a lady. She was everything right and correct about society. She knew more about manners and doing things right than the lady who wrote the book about manners. And yet when the lights went out, she showed him she had another side. It was one of the things he'd enjoyed most, seeing the change from genteel lady to a lover with a voracious appetite. One of the other things he'd enjoyed was broadening her lovemaking experience. Initiating her into areas she hadn't ventured, yet. Some of those things were ones he'd first tried with Lula, he realized with a start!

His phone dinged, and he swiped the screen to read the message. "I got out of the car to text Lester," he told her. "You were worried so I asked him what the hell he was doing with that girl." He'd also asked Lester why he left him high and dry without a ride. He would share the first part of Lester's text with Lula, but not the last part. Lester had seen Tank looking at Lula during the ceremony. _I did ya a favor, bud…_ He _had_ been looking at Lula during the ceremony. Stephanie had made a beautiful bride, but Lula had looked good, too. Real good. He hadn't let his thoughts go further than that, but obviously Lester had let his thoughts linger where they lived … in the gutter. He felt a familiar stirring, low down, and knew he had to quit thinking about Lula like that. This damn car was too small for a hard-on!

"Lester said not to worry," he told Lula. "He and Marisol are sitting with her Uncle Luis watching the game."

"What game?"

"Hell, Lula! I don't know. Cut me some slack. I was trying to be nice, to get you some reassurance that the girl was okay. You seemed real worried about it."

"Yeah, I was. Thanks, Tank."

"'s okay," he muttered.

"It's just that I seen a few in my day. Young girls who are usually running away from a bad home life. They think turning tricks is gonna lead them to a brighter place, and then they get into something that isn't easy to get out of. I know Lester's not like that, but my hair stands on end when I see young girls with older guys. It's just a gut response."

"I imagine you have seen a lot," Tank said, realizing there was much about Lula he didn't know. Things she just didn't talk about.

"Them girls go out there thinkin' they know it all, and it don't take long before they realize they didn't know nothin'."

He remembered his earlier question, which she had not answered, about how her career as a hooker had started. He ventured another. "Were you one of those girls?"

"I knew exactly what I was gettin' into," she said. She slowed down the car and Tank realized they were approaching the RangeMan building.

"Pull into the garage," he told her. "My truck is inside."

"About the garage," Lula said. "Is there a ladies' room nearby? I could use one."

"Park and I'll take you inside," Tank told her.

She wheeled the Firebird into a stall next to his truck. They got out and walked together toward the lobby door. He punched a code into the keypad and pulled the door open. They walked across the lobby and stopped in front of an unmarked door.

"It's for employees only," Tank said, "that's why the door isn't marked. Go on in. I'll wait to make sure you get out of the building okay."

Lula took a step toward the door and then turned. "Yeah, I knew what I was getting into," she said. "I learned everything I needed to know from my mama's boyfriend, when I was eleven." She turned and walked into the restroom.

Tank stood motionless until she reappeared a few minutes later. "Lula, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Yep, that's exactly what I'm sayin'. And you know what? He's still around. Vinnie bonded him out last year. I was hoping the dipwad would go FTA. Stephanie's always sayin', 'No shooting,' but I was going to shoot anyway. He made his court appearance though, so I didn't get the chance." She started walking toward the exit.

"I've enjoyed talking to you," Tank said. It seemed a lame thing to say in light of what they had been discussing. But he had to say something. He didn't want her to go yet. "Would you like to go get something to drink?"

"What about something to eat to go with that drink?" she asked.

He nodded. "We could do that."

She smiled broadly and hooked her arm through his. "Let's go."

"Okay, but we'll take my truck. I like it when I drive."

"I always liked it when you drove, too, big fella!" They laughed and walked out into the RangeMan garage, arm in arm.

 _AN: One epilogue down, one more tomorrow. Thanks for staying for last call._


	25. Chapter 25

**Epilogue 2: American Gangster**

 _Seven months after the wedding_

The cigar ashes almost dropped before he noticed. He casually flicked the greying end over the heavy glass ashtray that was on the table next to his chair. He was getting increasingly absent-minded, and knew he didn't have enough years ahead of him to do everything he now had to do. Damn her! Her weakness had destroyed all his plans, and dumped decades of hard work and training down the drain.

Oh well, he would start over, again. There was still time and his new protégé was sharp as a tack and loyal to the Family. She had no weaknesses. He'd had her vetted in every way possible. She was his one last hope.

He heard voices outside the door. She was here. He sat up a little straighter and smoothed his remaining wisps of hair over his nearly bald scalp.

"Welcome, my dear. Thank you for coming," he said, extending his hand, not trusting his weak legs to stand.

"Good morning, Uncle," the woman smiled as she approached the old man and warmly clasped his hand in both of hers.

"That's Great-Granduncle to you," he contradicted her, a softness to his voice indicating no real dispute with her title for him. He waved his arm over the chair next him and she sat down, expelling a deep sigh as she settled in. "How are you feeling today?" he asked solicitously.

The young woman unconsciously rubbed her hands over her expanding belly. "Admittedly, I'm a little tired. Your great-great-grandnephew-to-be kept me up most of the night. He's an active little boy and is eager to greet the world."

"And I am eager to meet him. You have no idea how much," he said. "He is the future of our families."

She nodded. "I will train him well, Uncle. Have no fear. I want this for him as much as you do. But you have to take better care of yourself," she admonished, glancing at the still smoking cigar laying in the ashtray. "I wish you'd quit that filthy habit. It takes years off of your life, and those years are going to be precious to your heir. I want him to get to know you, to learn from you, to have fond memories of you. That will help sustain him during the rough times that are sure to come."

"Your great-grandfather and I have trained you well, my dear, and we have imparted all we know to you. It is your responsibility to share that with your son."

"I miss Great-Grandpa Reggie," she said. "I only hope I can make him proud."

"You will make both the Romanos and the Grizzolis proud, my dear," the old man said. "Our Sicilian blood runs through you. You are the best of both of our families. And your unborn son will be the best of our three families." He leaned his head back against the chair cushion. "I can still see all three of us, getting off the boat at Ellis Island in 1952. Tony Salerno, Reggie Romano and me. We were young, cocky and ready to conquer the New World. We were going to take America by storm."

"And you did," the young woman avowed, smiling at the hint of the old man's memories. "The three of you conquered New Jersey and made it yours. I still marvel at all the stories you and Great-Grandpa Reggie used to tell, of how you three divided the state and each built your own empire. And yet you still remained friends."

The old man snorted. "Enough so that I allowed my dear sister to marry your great-grandfather, and my other sister to marry Tony Salerno. Those marriages cemented our ties and our families together."

"And my marriage brings things full circle. My son," she stroked her bulging belly again, "will be the perfect blending of those three families, and he will bring those three empires together into one glorious whole. I promise you, Uncle, I will see that future become reality."

"Your husband must never know the full extent of your mutual heritage. If he knew he was descended from the Salernos, and that you are from the Romanos, and both of you have Grizzoli blood coursing through your veins, I fear he would not be as receptive to our plans for his son."

"He will be a good father, unlike the other men in his family. I love him and he loves me," she smiled. "He is kind and thoughtful, and he will bring our son up with a strong work ethic and an unwavering sense of family loyalty. When the time is right, I will make sure our son knows his family history and the family business, and I will train him to take his rightful place as our new head."

"You fill me with joy, my dear. You are the new future of our combined families," the old man said.

She reached over and patted his hand. "I know I wasn't your first choice, and I hate how my rise came about. But I will never let you down, Uncle. I love you."

"Oh, my dear, and I love you." He exhaled, a sad and tired expelling of breath. "I had such hopes for Terry; she was smart and ruthless, but she had one fatal flaw. There were glimpses of her _problem_ early on, but she learned to hide it well. I thought she could overcome it, but I guess I never knew how strong her inner demons were. I spent years grooming her, and I could see the steadying force that her relationship with Joe Morelli provided. Joe has my blood in him, through my sister, even though her daughter Angela refused to tell any of her children— _my own grandnieces and grandnephews_ —of their true heritage," he exclaimed, saying the last few phrases with vehemence. He glanced over at the young woman sitting next to him. "Your mother raised you right. You always knew where you came from."

"And my children will know their real heritage, I promise you that, Uncle," she said.

"Thank you for that, my dear. It is reassuring," he said. "My brother had his only daughter, Terry, late in life, and he did everything he could to make sure she had a place in the business, and I embraced my niece and trained her as best I could. But Joe never knew his own family history. Maybe that was a good thing. I don't know." He rubbed his hand across his mouth. "I encouraged Terry and Joe, and I always thought they would marry and give the family heirs who could take over the business. But that dream died when Joe came back from the Navy and joined the police force. I knew he would never marry my niece then. At least he managed to keep her focused and on track for years. But when he broke it off with Terry that last time, I could see her going off the deep end. I never thought she'd kidnap that Plum woman, but when she took Ranger Mañoso, I knew it was over. I struggled with the thought of having her ... removed; she's family, after all. But that decision was taken from me when Terry went over that railing. Her death was a blessing in disguise."

"I'm so sorry, Uncle Vito, but it's over now and we need to look forward, look to the future. We have a new heir to love and to train." Again, her hands smoothed over her swelling stomach.

"You are right, of course, Alison. Family always comes first."

 **The End**

 _AN: The End ... but is it really? We appreciate everyone who has read, reviewed, and followed us. This collaboration started out as a whim and now is something more. If you enjoyed the story please be sure to follow us, because we will be back. Stephanie and Ranger are well on their way down the road to happily every after, but that road has some speed bumps, potholes and an occasional detour, and you won't want to miss any of the details! Thanks for reading and thanks for all the thoughtful reviews. While you're waiting for The Pardo Girls' next offering check out some other awesome stories by jago-ji and sonomom. ;-)_


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